


Free of Doubt

by queststar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode: s02e10 The Cricket Game, F/F, Idiots in Love, POV Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Season 2 how it was supposed to be, Slow Burn, Smut, Some Humor, Swan Queen - Freeform, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 130,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queststar/pseuds/queststar
Summary: When Regina is accused of killing Archie, Emma doesn't believe she is the culprit. But Regina doesn't trust Emma and is wary of her motives. However, she has to comply because Emma is her way to Henry. Follow Regina on her path to change, sometimes willing, sometimes unwilling, through an alternative season 2. It is far from easy and it'll put Regina's life upside down - not always in a positive way.(Or: I rewrote season 2 starting from The Cricket Game onward, picked and transcribed the scenes I liked, twisted others into submission, and discarded the rest).**now complete!**
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 200
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my all-new story! Before you go on your way of reading, I feel I need to warn you that this story is more angsty and dark than anything I've ever written. Like, really.  
> There will be trigger warnings at the start of each chapter if needed be, but if graphic violence, character deaths (non SQ), torture, and extended mentions/descriptions of (past) marital rape trigger you (and not only the ones that were already present in season 2), it's best to find other stories to read. I'll do my best to warn you when the really bad stuff is going to appear. If you're looking for fluff, I'd kindly refer to you other stories of mine. 
> 
> Also, this story is entirely Regina's POV. I'll do my utter best to do right by her immensely complicated persona.
> 
> The story is heavily influenced by [After Forever's cd "Remagine"](https://open.spotify.com/album/2PF1OyHSJIwh74b3QFMqLs). If you're into symphonic metal, go listen. You'll find several lyrics intertwined in this story :)
> 
> I'll try to update once a week, at least.
> 
> Thank you, Claire, for being the best cheerleader I can have on this particular monster of a story :)
> 
> And now, on to chapter 1.

Regina knows she’s not good. And not good is a grave understatement. Unfortunate circumstances and her own choices have darkened her soul, her heart, her entire being. She has done so many things that cannot bear the light of day. She’s deceived, plotted, maimed, murdered uncountable times. Some acts still haunt her in her sleep - horrible, vivid nightmares in which she relives the things she deep down feels guilty for. Others, she’s still rather content with and bring a smile to her face, every time she thinks of them. 

One might argue her history is not entirely her fault. That powers around her were strong enough to put her into a position that forced her to lash out the way she has. That her thirst for revenge was something she’d been driven to. But in the end, no matter how or why she became her, she  _ is _ the Evil Queen. 

Regina’s settled into the role of villain quite comfortably. She’s being regarded as The Big Bad that exists to take everyone’s hopes, dreams, and happy endings away. And she lives up to that role, every time she scowls at jitterish town people, hurrying to get out of her way. Morons, all of them. Most of them haven’t even seen her in real action, but both history and rumors - not all of them true, but some of them definitely are - have always preceded her, everywhere she goes.

And yet, she’s surprised that right now, she finds herself in an interrogation room, in Storybrooke, of all places. She stares at the see-through mirror, studying her own reflection as she waits for Storybrooke’s finest to explain why the hell she’s sitting here. It is one thing to  _ know _ when you’re being rounded up. It’s another when you don’t have a clue as to why.

A couple of hours ago, Emma and David showed up on her doorstep. She had scoffed when she saw them, badges out and all. Apparently, the sheriff’s station was a family business, now, she’d huffed. “Miss Swan,” she’d drawled, instantly noticing the serious gaze on Emma’s face and focusing on that, not even acknowledging the fool behind the blonde, “What an unpleasant surprise.”   
  
“Regina,” Emma said unfazed, “I need you to come to the station with me.”    
  
“And why would I do that?” Regina replied, a little haughty. She wrapped her arms in front of her chest, leaned against the doorframe. Her lip curled up in distaste.

“Because something’s happened and we want to ask you some questions.”

“What is it?” Despite her detest for the pair, Regina’s curiosity spiked despite the unnerving feeling that something serious was going on and that she probably was seen as the instigator. It wasn’t really rocket science. Storybrooke only had a few villains to choose from.   
  
“We’ll tell you when we get there,” Emma told her. Regina nearly snarled at her condescending tone. “Please, come with us.” 

She had wanted to resist. Every fiber of her being had told her to forcefully shove them off of her property. Had wanted to teleport away. But she hadn’t. Because she was  _ trying to be better _ for her son. And that entailed cooperating when the hero party that housed Henry, demanded so. 

She winces internally. She’s fallen so deep, so hard, from where she once was. A queen, ruling a kingdom, instigating fear. Now, she’s nothing, left to be dictated at the whim of Storybrooke’s self-proclaimed heroes. Because she wants her son. Of course, she can easily claim him now her magic is back, but she finds that she wants him to  _ want  _ to be with her. And therefore, she must try and be better. She’s never going to be  _ good _ the way the heroes would like everyone to be. But for him, she wants to try to be the best version of herself. No more lying. 

Regina pulls herself from her thoughts and focuses on the room instead. The scarcely lit room doesn’t bother her. She’s used to the near dark confinement of her vault. Her eyes trail the furniture. There are a table and a see-through mirror in which she can only see herself. A comfortable chair she’s sitting in. That’s it. Her eyes move back to the mirror and she raises her chin, straightens her shoulders and gives the mirror a long, hard stare. She knows who stands behind it. She wants them to know that she knows. She’s still a queen, and she won’t be intimidated by their tactics.

It works. It doesn’t take long before Emma and David enter. 

“Why am I here?” Regina asks, eyes narrowed.

“You know why you’re here,” Emma returns, face void of emotion, “Because of Archie.”   
  
Regina scoffs. Really? “So, now it’s against the law to argue with someone?” She had every right to do so after he went spilling her secrets to the blonde who’s now sitting in front of her.    
  
“It is if you go to their office later that night and kill them,” David speaks up, the accusation heavy in his voice.

Regina blinks in surprise, lets the words sink in for a moment. “Archie’s dead?” she asks, brow furrowed into a straight line. Her insides churn and twist when she speaks, she looks at Emma to see if it’s true, disbelief shining in her eyes, hoping Emma can debunk her father’s words. She sees the slight tilting of Emma’s head, the tiny surprise before it’s masked, while the blonde returns the gaze. It’s not a lie, Regina realizes. Archie’s gone. Regina’s fingers curl around the armrests of her chair, squeezing them tightly in anticipation until her fingers hurt.

Archie can’t be dead. Despite him oversharing, crossing a line with Emma, she  _ needs _ him. 

Archie is the only one that she talks to after she uses magic - not once but twice. There was the time when she had to bring David under a sleeping curse. It was something that had to be done, she’d used it for  _ good _ as Henry’d pointed out, but it was still using magic, and the darkness had tried to lure her right back in. It was like being addicted: once you get a whiff of how it was, you infinitely want more. The magic, bubbling under her skin, was excited to come out and play.

And then, she’d slipped, she’d fallen so hard when Cora tried to come through a portal into their world and Gold had manipulated her into cursing the portal. She’d fallen right back into her old behavior. Much like an addict does. Because that’s what she is. An addict to dark magic. The voice in her head combined with Gold’s persuasion of what her mother would do to her had made her weak. Made her as scared of her mother as she was when she was a child. Even more so, because she had once tried to kill her, to prevent her from traveling to Storybrooke after she cast the Dark Curse.

Yes, she and Archie had argued, yesterday at the docks. Regina had felt betrayed by Dr. Hopper. She had trusted him, and he had broken that trust by telling Emma about her sessions, about her progression because he thought it would  _ help _ her recovery. But he had had no right to talk to Emma about any of her therapy without her consent. She had found out two days ago, right after she’d left the welcome home party for Emma en Snow. She left because let’s face it, she bitterly thinks, she was never truly welcome there, despite Emma’s invitation. The only good thing was that she had been able to spend time with Henry. Briefly, her thoughts drift to the conversation she had outside, with Emma, while desperately trying to get her thoughts in order.   
  
_ Archie said you were trying to change and well, you are _ , Emma had told her. 

Betrayal had washed over her in waves. She trusted Archie, she confided in him. But like everyone else in her life, he had betrayed her. “Dr. Hopper said I was trying?” Her fingers curled into fists and uncurled in agony. What the hell had that insipid bug told Emma?

_ He said you came to see him, that you’re trying not to use magic, that you’re trying to be a better person. _ Regina had stood still, eyeing Emma up and down, silently processing the blonde’s words.  _ You understand I was hesitant to invite you. I asked him, and he thought it would be a good idea. _

She had violently pushed back her tears, her blank mask falling into place.  _ Thank you. It was _ , she’d said, smile fake, and she knew Emma knew, even though she smiled back.  _ I should be going _ , she had then muttered and she’d turned on her heels, walking away without looking back, anger boiling inside her. 

David’s voice snaps her out of her memory. 

“Stop it, Regina. Ruby saw you going into his office last night.” He isn’t the most patient these days, she‘s noticed and she forces herself to not show any response. David hasn’t made a secret of him not caring about her life. For a hero, he’s quick to pass judgment. But then, of course, forgiveness is handed out in a subjectively selective way. And in the end, he’s just a mere shepherd so she doesn’t hold him to very high standards anyway.

His blonde daughter, now looking at Regina with a slightly tilted head - observing her like she’s some complicated puzzle she needs to solve - at least wants Regina to stay alive. Emma had fended off Whale’s angry mob when the curse broke. And yes, it had ended up with her being in prison. (Apparently, she is starting to make a habit out of that, she thinks, nose wrinkled.) That particular time in the cell had led her to be vulnerable for Gold’s wraith, and a second rescue on Emma’s behalf.  _ I made a promise to Henry _ , Emma said when David had wanted to sacrifice Regina to the wreath,  _ she’s not dying _ . And Regina remembers looking at Emma in surprise, because somewhere deep down, she hadn’t really expected Henry to ask Emma to protect his adoptive mom.

Regina lifts her chin. It appears she has plenty of reasons to focus on Emma instead of the idiot behind her. “Then she’s lying. I was home all evening.” The blonde clears her throat lightly and sits on the edge table that separates Regina from herself and her father, and Regina leans forward, locking Emma’s gaze with her own.

“After everything I’ve done to change... to win Henry back. Why would I toss it all away now?” She needs Emma to believe her. Emma just observes, and so, with narrowed eyes, Regina turns back to David. “And if I did and I was going to kill Archie, you would never know it. The fact that he’s dead and you caught me shows sloppiness.” Every idiot knew she would cover her tracks.

“You’ve been caught before.” Charming pauses, a smug smirk on his face before he turns to his daughter while Regina stares at him with a deadpan face. He sighs impatiently and his gaze shifts from Regina to his daughter. “Come on Emma, who do you think is lying? Ruby? Or her? She’s incapable of change no matter how many times we’ve given her the chance... Why should this time be any different?” 

Regina clenches her teeth. Frustration builds up inside her as she remembers the unfortunate incident Charming is referring to. The memory shows being tied up to a pole, on display for the entire kingdom. Snow White stopping the execution, trying to give her another chance as the benevolent - no, weak - sovereign she was trying to be. Regina had loathed it. She had been ready for death. Regina fumbled her second chance when Snow came to see her in the dungeon. And the banishment that followed made it real easy for Rumple to trick her into believing that the Dark Curse would hold all the answers.

But before she can reply, Emma gets up abruptly, gives her a brief nod and they exit the room after that, leaving Regina alone with her own thoughts. Her own, bitter, vile thoughts.

It doesn’t matter how hard she tries, she bitterly thinks. It doesn’t matter that she’s trying to be better for her son. Because good always defeats evil - stories are black and white like that. And she’ll be evil for the rest of her life. 

Regina scoffs. She doesn’t seek redemption, doesn’t need forgiveness, but she does need a little hope to desperately cling onto like a buoy on the open sea, the hope to get her son back. How the hell is she ever going to do better by Henry if everyone keeps rubbing in her face that there is no chance for her? That she’s always going to be the villain?

She can keep on trying, but it won’t make any difference. Because no matter what is happening, they will always first turn to her when the next big bad is happening. Another chance? She scoffs again. She will never ever really get one, no matter what her son says. The realization burns in her chest, makes the magic bubble under her skin. 

It’s why she is highly surprised they’re letting her go shortly after. 

~*~

Of course, the satisfaction she feels about being released is short-lived. The pounding on her door is a familiar one. Regina knows who stands behind it even before she opens it.   
  
“Miss Swan, I assume you’re here to apologize?” She is surprised to see the two idiots standing behind her. They’re wet, Emma’s gray blazer is dappled with rain. The drizzle is just enough to soak them. Good, she thinks. Sometimes, it’s the little things in life you need to enjoy.

“I saw you do it,” Emma says, a frown on her face. There’s a flash in Emma’s eyes that Regina cannot place but her words confuse her

“What?” She’ll need a little more information than that. Besides, Emma’s words don't completely line up with the look on her face. Something’s off. She tilts her head, squints a little with her eyes.   
  
“I saw it. I saw you choking the life out of Archie.” 

“What are you talking about? How is that even possible?” She shakes her head lightly in denial, highly confused. Anger flares up inside her belly and it settles in the pit of her stomach like an old friend. First, they get her to the station, then they let her go, and now they’re on her tail again? She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of them. It never is, in any realm. She clenches her jaws, expecting that the worst is yet to come.

“Magic,” David spits out, and Regina’s eyes flash from David to Emma. There’s something in Emma’s eyes that Regina can’t place, and she narrows her eyes to grasp it. “I saw what happened, and it was you,” Emma says in a low voice. Regina recoils at the untrue accusation. Emma moves a bit closer.   
  
Regina’s eyes wander from the blonde’s face to the drizzly weather, which is highly similar to her current mood. “Gold,” she mutters when realization strikes. “He helped you. You’re going to trust him, of all people, when he’s probably the one behind this?” Her gaze is now firmly planted on Emma, eyes ablaze. Because she, of all people, should know better.

“We didn’t trust him,” Snow says instead, arms folded in front of her chest. She looks smug, and it takes Regina every inch of self-control that she can muster up not to wipe it from her face. “That’s why  _ Emma _ used magic instead.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice.

It takes the air from Regina’s lungs, and her eyes flick back to Emma’s in wonder. Emma, whose eyes haven’t strayed from Regina’s face since she’s opened the door. “You can use magic,” Regina says, her tone somewhere between a question and a statement. There’s a short smirk on Emma’s face, a confirmation that indeed, she can. It’s a little smug, like her mother. 

Regina’s mind instantly wanders back to the one time she’d suspected Emma to have magic. When she’d tried to get Jefferson’s hat to work. She remembers the light touch on her arm, urging her to hurry when the wraith had wanted to take her. Can still feel the jolt of electricity that it generated, how it had jumpstarted her magic to open the portal. Her eyes widen slightly.

And then, something else happens that leaves Regina puzzled.

Emma’s gaze drops to her own hands in front of her. Regina automatically follows her gaze. There’s a tiny note between Emma’s index and middle finger that she holds out towards her. Regina’s eyes flick back to her face and there’s the tiniest nod, making Regina weary but she leans in a little, casually taking the note from Emma’s fingers. “Well,” she says, holding her gaze while unfolding the small note carefully. Emma stands a little wider, arms in her coat pockets, hands firmly planted on her waist, preventing her parents from seeing what’s happening. How… odd, Regina thinks as she holds Emma’s gaze, “I can only assume he warned you, then.” 

“About what?” Emma asks, brow furrowed but a little curious.

“That magic always comes with a price.” 

“Well, that’s a price we’re both going to pay.” 

“And why’s that?” Regina tilts her head.   
  
“Henry. He believed in you.”

Regina’s eyes grow wide, and her eyes flick from Emma to Snow to David. Emma tilts her head, holds her gaze, nods to the piece of paper. She’s still shielding Regina from her parents, giving her the opportunity to quickly read the message.

_ I believe you. Meet at the docks, 30 minutes. Play along. Fairy dust!!  _

Regina’s eyes are glued to the message, while she tries to comprehend what it says. They are loose words on a scrap of paper and it contradicts completely with what Emma’s telling her. She opens her mouth to say anything, but she can’t. “His heart’s going to break,” Emma continues with a deadpan face, “That’s both our prices.” 

_ I believe you _ . Regina doesn’t. Her insides are coiling, her magic vibrating underneath her skin, outraged by the unjust accusations, desperate for someone to believe that she has nothing to do with Archie’s death. She can’t comprehend why Emma drags her son into this. She’s worked  _ so  _ hard for every Henry-shaped breadcrumb they throw her way these days. 

“ _ No _ . I will not let you poison Henry against me,” she says, desperate tears gathering in her eyes.  _ Play along. _ She doesn’t need to play the agony she feels right now. Helplessly, she curls and uncurls her fists. She can wipe them out with one flick of her arm. But she can’t at the same time, because of Henry.

“It’s an interesting word choice,” Emma smirks darkly, “Since you already did.” It’s a low blow, they both know it and it hurts like hell. Regina chokes on her breath while Emma turns and walks away.   
  
“I want to see him,” Regina says wildly, following Emma, rushing outside, crumpling the little note in her hands. The soft rain tickles her skin. “He deserves to hear my side of the story. He’s my son!” she cries out. 

“He’s not, he’s mine!” Emma roars back, leaving Regina’s stunned.  _ I believe you.  _ Emma’s eyes flick to the side and it’s enough warning for Regina.

The blue pest throws her shimmering fairy dust and Regina catches it easily. “Did you really think that would work again?” she says, turning to David and Snow.  _ Play along _ .  _ Play along. _ It hums in her head like a mantra and even though she doesn’t understand what’s going on now, she has to make the choice to place at least some basic trust in the blonde. At least for now.

She throws the magic at their feet before she whirls back at Emma. She doesn’t even have to  _ play _ anything. “You. You will NOT keep my son from me,” she snarls, raising her hands and forcefully blowing her away - the first time she’s used magic in a while now, and the darkness inside her cheers.  _ Play along _ . It’s even satisfying, this part. “So much for fairy dust,” she sneers, drawing her own face close to Emma’s, “Maybe some of that newfound magic can save you now.”

“I don’t need it,” Emma retorts, “I already won.” She’s sizing Regina up. “There’s no way Henry will swallow your lies about Archie now.” There’s a fierce sincerity in Emma’s eyes which makes Regina blink.  _ Play along _ , but was this really still playing? She turns, all of a sudden a little unsure because of the ferocity of Emma’s words. And the next ones hit her even harder. “You can pretend all you want, but we know how you are and who you will always be.” 

Breath catches in her throat. The ferociousness in Emma’s eyes startles her, Regina has never seen her before like this. Her eyes wander over Emma’s face, desperately trying to see if there’s  _ something _ there.  _ I believe you _ , she tries to cling to that, but the words Emma so vehemently spoke burn holes in her chest, eyes sting behind her eyes but she’ll be  _ damned _ if she will show those to anyone. 

She moves her head down in defeat, curves her arms and  _ flees _ from the mansion to her vault in a cloud of thick, purple smoke to lick her wounds.

~*~

She almost doesn’t show up at the docks, pain searing through her body, leaving her breathless. It feels as if someone’s choking the life out of her, as if someone’s cutting off air supplies.  _ We know how you are and who you will always be. _ Henry, Henry,  _ Henry. _ He will believe her, won’t he? Or maybe he doesn’t because his newfound trust in her is still so frail. Despair rages through her body, clouds her vision. He  _ must _ . He must know that she had nothing to do with Archie. How could she ever? She needs Archie. She needs Henry. And Emma Swan and her mixed signals can go to hell, she decides. The blows that Emma handed out were low, they were meant to hurt - and they did. Betrayal joins despair. She had thought that Emma was the smartest of the Charmings. Apparently, she was so very, very wrong.

And at the same time, she is curious because she doesn’t  _ understand. Why _ would Emma hand her that note if everything she was going to do was to burn her into the ground, take Henry away forever - like hell that she’s going to let  _ that _ happen - and make her lash out? 

Curiosity wins it in the end. She warily wonders what Emma has to offer. She doubts it is an apology for the vitriol she spat out a little earlier, but she needs to cling to  _ something _ and in finding out what the blonde is up to, she might also find another chance to reconnect with Henry.

So she teleports over, causing Emma, who’s already waiting at the docks to yelp and stumble backward. Good. Let her be scared. She notices the scrape on Emma’s forehead for magically shoving her. She deserved it, Regina snarls internally. Helpless rage flares up in the pit of her stomach again.

Emma’s hand goes to her head when she notices Regina’s lingering gaze. “Very convincing, Madam Mayor,” she says, wincing when she touches the bump on her head. 

“What the hell do you want from me?” Regina snarls. “What the hell  _ was _ that?” She can’t show weakness, not to this woman she hardly knows. Who’s wrecked her life enough as it is. 

“You’re being framed for Archie’s murder,” Emma says, brow furrowed and Regina scoffs.

“You think?!” Regina’s eyes flash dangerously. “That’s what I’ve been telling you, when you put me in your interrogation room this morning. Now, tell me something I don’t know.” She folds her arms in front of her chest and raises her chin.

“Look, I’m sorry. But I had to be really convincing and I had to think fast.” Emma doesn’t look like she’s sorry at all, but that might also be because Regina still sees everything through a red haze. “Pongo told us it was you. We were all there to see.”   
  
“Pongo?” Regina blinks, puzzled at this sudden turn of the conversation.

“Yeah. I apparently channeled his thoughts through a dreamcatcher. The dog saw the whole thing. You ripped out Archie’s heart and crushed it, leaving him dead. Gold was there, and my parents. They wanted to go after you immediately, I only had a few seconds to write a note. Glad you understood my scribbles.” She throws her a small smile.

Regina looks at her with utmost frustration. “So I’m being framed by a  _ dog? That’s  _ the best police work you’ve done so far and  _ that’s  _ why you just threatened to keep my son away from me? To… to turn him against me?” 

Emma winces .“I’m not going to turn him against you, Regina. I just had to… make it really convincing. I needed you to flee, to play your part. We came here directly from Gold, if I’d had more time I could have warned you. But there wasn’t.” She runs a hand through her unruly curls. “David, he wanted to lock you up,” she continues, “He’d have thrown your ass in jail. I couldn’t let that happen. I know you didn’t do it. But someone else did, and apparently they really have it in for you. So I needed to uphold the image that we  _ wanted  _ to lock you up, in order to keep you out of prison. Sounds weird, I know, but I was a little under pressure.”

It doesn’t make sense. Regina needs to order her thoughts. “And why does the  _ savior _ have so much faith in the  _ Evil Queen _ ?” Regina bites at her.

Emma smirks, unimpressed and perhaps far too used to Regina’s outbursts. “Several reasons, actually. Like I told them this morning, just before we released you, the old Regina would have reduced the police station to ashes, after being accused of murder she didn’t commit. I know you really want to change. My… parents,” she’s almost spitting out the word, “their judgment is clouded. They have too much experience with the old you. With your old, Enchanted Forest ways. I don’t. I believe you.” She smiles a lopsided smirk. “And I basically told him I’m still the sheriff and they should listen to me.” 

Regina disregards the lame joke and tries to read Emma’s face for sincerity. It’s there. And she can’t help but wonder when was the last time she had someone in her corner. If Emma really is. She still isn’t sure.

“Also, I don’t believe Pongo,” Emma continues.

Regina scoffs, recollects herself. “What, your infamous lie detector pings on dogs now, too?”

It draws a small smile from Emma. “No, but the memory was… off. It felt like Pongo was confused. He knows you, but at the same time, that night he didn’t. It wasn’t you who killed Archie. It was someone who looked like you.”

“Well, I’m happy the city’s paying you generously for your detective work,” Regina sarcastically huffs. 

Emma ignores it. “Besides,” she adds, “Archie was Henry’s friend. You wouldn’t have hurt him if only for that reason.”

There’s a short silence. “No, I wouldn’t,” Regina quietly agrees. She’s never had many friends, but she had placed a tentative trust in him to help her find her path. To help her control her magic. And now she’s on edge, she feels exhausted, angry, Emma’s words of not even an hour ago still ringing through her head. She sinks through her knees, sits on one of the several benches that decorate the docks. Emma takes place at another one, face turned towards the Mayor.

“Regina, do you trust me?”   
  
“Not a chance in hell,” Regina snaps, eyes flashing back to the blonde. “ What reasons have you given me to ever trust you? All you've ever done is threaten to take my son away from me.”  Emma stares back, the tiniest of smiles, apologetic perhaps, around her mouth. 

“All right,” she says. “Fair enough. But right now, I’m all you’ve got. The entire town is out for your blood.” 

Regina sighs, lets her head rest against the bench. She closes her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. “Well, it must be Tuesday, then,” she mutters. “Nothing new there.” A seagull screeches above them. Momentarily distracts them. It makes Regina aware of her surroundings.

Regina feels chilly. As if someone’s watching them. She scans the area but turns up empty, and then her eyes flick back at the blonde. Archie’s death has made her suspicious of everyone. “We need to have this conversation elsewhere. We’re too exposed, here.”

“All right,” Emma says, looking around her. The docks are abandoned but highly visible. 

“Let me teleport us both to my vault,” Regina offers, a little tentative.

If Emma’s surprised by the location, she doesn’t show it. Of course, Henry already ventured there on his own, David barely saving him from Agrabah’s vipers. They know where the vault is, know it exists here. The blonde only nods and Regina stands up, Emma following her lead, and with a light touch on Emma’s shoulder they’re both enveloped in thick, purple clouds which only dissipate when they reach their destination. 

Regina watches Emma’s response closely. The blonde slowly blinks, eyes adjusting against the dark of the underground area, and with a wave of Regina’s hand, the candles are lit. “Don’t touch anything,” she snaps at Emma. She should’ve known the warning falls on deaf ears. Of course, the blond can’t help but pick up some trinkets. “I mean it,” Regina says sharply. “These are all strong magical items. If I believe it's needed, I’ll restrain you.”

Emma withdraws her hand immediately. “Sorry,” she says. She whirls on her heels, facing Regina. 

“So, who would have the motive to frame you? Who'd hate you so much-" Regina's glare cuts her off, while she figures out the answer on her own. She smirks, shrugs it off. "All right, the entire town has a beef with you. How about, anyone magical?"

"There aren't any magic users besides me in this town except for the bugs and Gold." She lets her eyes trail over Emma's figure. “And apparently you,” she adds, with a hint of exasperation. Emma shrugs. 

“What about Jefferson?” she inquires. 

Regina scoffs. “Jefferson’s only magic lies in his hat. He’s useless without it. And he would certainly not be able to pull off a glamour spell.” 

Emma sighs. Buries her hands in her hair in a desperate gesture. 

A silence falls over them, both lost in their own thoughts. And then, Emma shuffles on her feet. Her brow furrows. She opens her mouth, wants to say something, and then rethinks and snaps her mouth shut.

“Out with it, Miss Swan,” Regina says irritably. She has no patience for this behavior. 

“It’s about Henry,” Emma says quietly. “You’re not going to like it.”

Regina tenses. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“It might be best if he won’t be around you for a while. For his own protection.”

It feels like a blow to her stomach. A familiar, burning rage flares up and Regina narrows her eyes. “ If anyone can protect my son it's me, Miss Swan,” she barks.

Emma shakes her head violently. “If someone’s targeting you, someone who’s using magic, Henry is in more danger when he's around you, especially when we don’t know who it is,” Emma fires back. And then, Regina instantly realizes why Emma dragged Henry into it. Into the vile play at Regina’s front door. 

“Is  _ that _ why you put up the charade at my front porch?” Regina snarls in disgust, “your  _ little play _ was to keep Henry away from me all this time, am I wrong? You just told me you don’t want to turn him against me. For someone who claims to be at my side you are giving pretty mixed signals!” The hurt is evident on her face, too raw and too much on the emotional surface for her to hide.

Emma has the audacity to look a little guilty. So she’s right in her reasoning. They don’t know who’s after her so Emma wants to make sure that Henry is nowhere near Regina. If she’s truly honest with herself - and right now she really doesn’t want to be truly honest with herself - it makes sense. If she doesn’t know who she should be fighting, everyone can be a suspect. But still, it hurts like a bitch.

She hates that the sting behind her eyes is back. Hates that Emma notices the frustration, the hurt, the anger, the  _ pain. _ There’s  _ sympathy _ on Emma’s face, for crying out loud. And she just cannot deal with it.

She lashes out because it’s what she’s used to.  “ You ask me to trust you and then tell me you'll take my son away. You can't have it both ways. Which one is it?”

“It'll have to be both ways,” Emma replies, a stern look on her face.

Regina scoffs. “And then  _ I'm _ the one they call evil,” she bitterly says. 

Emma straightens her back, her eyes flash. “Damn it, Regina, will you shut up and hear me out?” she snaps. Regina rolls her eyes.

“There’s a magic-user that apparently, wants you either dead or alone.” She raises a finger, adds a second. “We don’t know who it is. Yet.” A third. ”We both really want to figure that out.” Fourth. “The entire town blames you. Right now I’m the only exception, so I’m all you’ve got.” Fifth. “As long as we don’t have the faintest clue, we can’t really trust anyone. Not even my parents who would like to see nothing more than you behind bars.” 

Regina looks at the raised fingers. She knows Emma is right, but her insides twist and churns. Because she knows what Emma is implying. She is telling her that Henry must believe what the town believes. “I told him I wouldn’t lie to him anymore,” she says, a slight tremor in her voice. Goddammit. She hates herself for it.

“You won’t,” Emma murmurs, a little guilty, “Because I will.” 

Regina looks at her in surprise and Emma continues. “Someone has to, and I don’t want it to be you. Think, Regina. You know what happens if we were to tell Henry the truth. Tell him what we know.”

Regina swallows. Yes, she knows what he’d do. “He’d set up one of his operations and would want to help,” she quietly replies, and Emma hums in agreement. 

“I will tell him that the investigation of Archie’s murder is still ongoing. I won’t point my fingers directly towards you, I promise.”   
  
“No, but he’ll surely fill in those blanks for himself,” Regina bitterly mutters in defeat. She wraps her arms around her own torso, suddenly chilled to the bone. She’s wavering. Adrift on this sea of emotions, waves higher every time she surfaces. She’s drowning, doesn’t know if she can survive without her son.  She needs someone to ground her. 

Henry and Archie, they’ve been her anchors on her path of change. Henry is the one she does it all for, is in her mind every time she wants to snap a neck, blow something up, set something on fire. Henry is the only one who could’ve talked her out of rigging the portal that she and Gold had created in the well when Snow and Emma returned from the Enchanted forest.  He asked her to have faith, faith in him like he has faith in her. It was what caused her to absorb the curse. Henry, he always got her back on track. He’s the one who always tried to believe in her. 

And Archie was there to help her through the difficult moments. Especially after she had let go of Daniel for the second time and without Henry, without anyone caring about what it had done to her, Archie was the only person that had shown any interest in her personal well-being, so he was no more than the logical choice. It had devastated her to let Daniel go. It had broken her. 2 days without magic and when she had to use it, it had been to kill her fiance. And Archie with his gentle, understanding eyes had let her talk about it. Had let her cry. Hell, he’d even offered her a paper napkin. She scoffs. 

Henry doesn’t want her to use magic, and she tries, but it’s so hard. Her magic is always there. It’s an integral part of her. She feels it now, too. Her magic, her  _ dark _ magic, churns inside her, seeks a way out, needs to  _ hurt _ when she’s in pain and she can barely control it. She feels it in her limbs, her fingers, under her skin. It buzzes in her head. Magic, light or dark, is emotion, and right now, when she’s on the verge of hyperventilating because she might lose her son forever she can feel it coursing through her veins, seeking a way out. 

With Archie’s death and Henry gone, she won’t have  _ anyone _ to ground her.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on her shoulder. “Regina-”   
  
“Don’t touch me,” Regina snarls. Emma quickly retreats her hand.

“Regina,” Emma repeats, quietly, hands now folded together, “I’m here for you.”

Regina narrows her eyes, breathing heavily to control herself, a magical purple haze in her eyes. “The hell you are.  How did you think this would go? Us becoming BFF's and braiding each other's hair for Henry's sake?” She needs to hurt someone. Anyone. Emma’s the only one available. The pain inside her is ruthless and she needs to release it. Purple sparks crackle at her fingertips.

Something flashes over Emma’s face, something Regina can’t place, but Emma stares back, her face now mercifully blank. “I know you’ll do the right thing for Henry,” she says in a low voice, ignoring Regina’s words but shooting a worried glance at her sparking fingers. “I’ll pick him up this afternoon. I’ll tell him about Archie. About… the town’s suspicions. I’ll…” She pauses. “I’ll let you know how he’s doing. Keep him safe.”

Emma turns on her heels and leaves the vault,. Regina feels like she’s choking on her own breath, tries to get air into her lungs desperately, and before Emma’s outside, Regina screams out the pain, cries out the devastation, fingers crackling with dark, dark magic. She turns around and catches her own reflection in the mirror. 

She stares at herself for a second or two - her frantic red-rimmed eyes, her haunted expression when she realizes she won't see Henry in a while - then her vision blurs and she violently releases her magic at her own reflection in the mirror, shattering it to a million pieces and she cries until there’s nothing left inside. Exhausted, she sinks through her knees, knocks over a few candles on her way down, curls up on the cold, stone floor, completely void of emotions, completely empty. 

She thinks she blacks out for a little while, exhausted from today’s happenings, but her internal clock wakes her right before Henry’s bus arrives. She can’t stay away. She needs to see him. And she does. She teleports to her car and quickly makes her way to the bus stop. Because apparently, she thinks bitterly, she needs more pain to the load she’s already carrying. She’s self-destructive like that. She sees how Emma and the Charmings are having a discussion and she slides lower in her seat, not wanting to be spotted. She does, however, roll down her window a bit, to see if she can hear anything. They’re too self-absorbed to notice her anyway.

“This is like, real parent stuff. How can I be a parent if I never was one?” Bits of the conversation reach the car and Regina can’t hear David’s reply, because he’s standing with his back towards her. Emma continues. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I was before Storybrooke and trust me, I was  _ not _ parent-material.” There’s a pause. “What if I revert? Regina did.”

_ I believe in you, _ Regina remembers when the hurtful claws dig into her very soul once more.  _ Emma believes in you. She needs to do this to protect your son. _ Well, she’s doing a pretty damn convincing job. Regina still has severe issues with placing her trust in Emma. And that’s exactly why these words hurt more than they probably should. Because all Emma’s ever done is try to take her son from her. She scoffs at the absurdity of the entire situation.

Then, the bus arrives and Emma turns. Regina gasps when she sees Henry, her beautiful, kind-hearted, strong-willed son, walk towards Emma slowly, hands in the pockets of his coat. He wears the scarf Regina gave him last Christmas, the grey and red one. They talk softly, Emma places a hand on his shoulder and guides him to the bench across the street, which Regina can see in her side mirror. She dreads what’s to come.

And her eyes water, she feels the familiar desolation while the first tear slips from her eyes while she leans closer to the mirror, to see more until Henry throws himself into Emma’s arms. Regina squeezes her eyes shut, feels how more tears roll over her cheek, didn’t know she had more to spare, and feels utterly, completely alone. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Trigger warning: Vague mention of marital abuse / child abuse

Regina is in her vault. There’s a secret room, decorated in black and white tones, much like her office at town hall. It is as comfortable as her mansion. But right now, the contrast between black and white is so evident that the shades seem to mock her. Dark versus light, the way it will ever be. And here she is, hiding in the darkness. 

For the last couple of days, ever since Emma told Henry everything at the bus stop, she has resided here. Licked her wounds. She hasn’t ventured outside. There’s no reason to. The town is out for her blood. And by having to give everything up -  _ Henry  _ \- once more, there’s no need to stop using magic anymore. She can just conjure up everything she needs. 

Her only link to the outside world is Emma. Emma, who feels a little guilty about keeping Henry in the dark - she hasn’t said it with so many words, but Regina can read between the lines. She’s been checking in and has called Regina every day.

The first time she called, Regina hadn’t picked up. One glance at the caller ID had made her refuse the call. But Emma was persistent - Regina should have known. She simply kept on trying until Regina had rolled her eyes in annoyance and had picked up. And Emma told her about Henry, how sad he was about Archie. Emma never mentioned that he’d placed the blame on her. She didn’t have to. Regina’s heart had squeezed painfully, she hadn’t been able to talk. Simply breathed in and out, until she was able to think again. Emma had stayed on the line, uncharacteristically silent, until Regina had formally thanked her for her call and had hung up.

Ever since, the blonde gives her daily updates on the case’s progress. Updates on Henry. Every day, eight o’clock sharp. Which is remarkable because Emma is hardly ever on time. Yet, it seems that Emma’s punctuality is dependent on the order of importance. And Regina clings to the fact that at least right now, she’s high up on Emma’s priority list. After Henry, of course. 

Today however, there wasn’t any call. Instead, she received an apologetic text - that some police business that had nothing to do with her case, showed up. And Regina is shocked by how much she misses the human interaction. The loneliness is antagonizing. 

She didn’t reply to the text. Didn’t ask Emma who was in the accident because frankly, she didn’t care. 

She sighs. Paces up and down. Longs for some human interaction and ponders to go out, if only for a bit. Just to feel the wind through her hair, to clear her mind. She hasn’t felt this lonely for a long time.

Regina’s been lonely before. Hell, she’s been alone her entire life. When she was young, there were hardly any children her own age in and near the massive mansion she grew up in. And if there were any, her mother forbade her to interact with them. She’d learned to entertain herself. Sought refuge in the stables. Created her own fantasy worlds in which she had plenty of friends to play with.

She felt utterly and completely alone when her mother left her cradling Daniels dead body close to her own, after Cora had crushed his heart. There was nobody in the world who cared for her as Daniel had and her mother ripped him away from her.

She felt alone in the King’s castle. As a young queen, there were times that Regina had welcomed the loneliness. Being alone had meant that she didn’t have to show up at King Leopold’s or Snow’s request. 

At other times, the loneliness was suffocating. It was especially during these times especially that she had spiraled into her own dark thoughts. Daniel's death had left deep scars. And the expectations placed upon her to be a stepmother for a spoiled little princess, the ones that urged her to be a good  _ wife _ to a man three times her age and with nobody there to really talk to, her thoughts kept her company. The loneliness made her think. Overthink. Ponder. Plot. It had allowed her to feed her anger, feed the thirst for revenge over her murdered fiance.

And then she’d killed the king and had driven Snow out of the castle. Regina became queen of a kingdom she had never truly wanted. She had reveled in her loneliness.  _ Love is weakness. _ She didn’t need anyone. Being alone was good and it was all she needed for her quest to find Snow, and later, to cast the curse.

So, she is used to being alone and thus, the loneliness shouldn’t suffocate her as it does now. But it does, and it has everything to do with the fact that she hasn’t been alone in the last ten years. She had a  _ son _ to look after.

Henry.

Children, Regina muses, they give their love so freely. Memories of Henry’s adoration for her when he was little, his infinite trust in her, his unconditional love enter her mind. The loneliness had evaporated, disappeared into thin air completely for nearly ten years. But it had re-appeared in full force when he found out that he was adopted and Mary Margaret Blanchard gave him a storybook. He’d rejected her completely after reading that damned book.

She’d desperately tried to control him, tried to keep him in line, told him she was his mother, he was her son. And he had distanced himself further, had started to skip school to meet with his biological in private. 

The desperate loneliness had reached its peak right before she’d baked the apple turnover meant for Emma. But Henry had eaten it and an all-consuming feeling of fear and self-loathing had washed over her - it was  _ her _ fault he was in a coma. It was her fault that he died.

And then Emma kissed him. True love’s kiss. 

She remembers the relief, happiness, and immediate devastation she felt after Emma broke the curse. He was alive but lost to her, maybe forever. His gaze was wary when he looked at her while she told him that no matter what anyone thought, she still loved him. And then she ran, ran from the hospital, ran from the still dazed townspeople waking up from the curse.

She ended up in his bedroom at the mansion after fleeing the hospital, touching his belongings, reliving how he’d once hugged her without a doubt, and wondering how it had all gone to hell and the only thing she could’ve thought at the time was Emma, Emma,  _ Emma. She _ did this. She caused it all.

But it wasn’t Emma, Regina had realized soon after. Emma had been right, in that utility closet she’d forced Regina into, back in the hospital when Henry had still been in a coma. If Regina had  _ just _ let her leave, the curse would probably still be intact and everyone would’ve continued to live their petty little cursed lives. And Henry would still be with her. This was all on her, a desperate attempt to keep her family together.

It would’ve been a lie, though. A family held together under false pretenses. Before Emma had come to town, Regina probably wouldn’t have cared. She’d have her son and her curse, and that was all that counted. 

But much had changed since then. A broken curse. A promise not to lie anymore. Promises to not use magic - well, she scoffs, that’s one she’s already broken -, try harder, do more, be better. Change. She scoffs. And what did that get her? Not her son. All that’s gotten her is a savior who talks much. Who still hasn’t found the real killer. Bitterness wells up in her throat and she breathes in deeply when her thoughts are spiraling into the black holes of her soul.

Her loneliness is dangerous. To herself and the people around her.

“Mom?”

Regina freezes in her tracks - she hadn’t even noticed that she’d frantically started to pace up and down to alleviate the building tension in her body.    
  
“Mom?”

She walks up to the mirror, makes it see-through with a wave of her hand, sees her son coming down into the vault. She hesitates, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what he’s doing here. Well, it’s obvious that he’s looking for  _ her _ , but why? 

She feels how the phone in her pocket starts buzzing, and she absentmindedly fishes it out. Emma’s calling her. It is odd, because it’s close to midnight already. She rejects the call, revels in the fact that her son is looking for  _ her _ . Emma calls again, and again, Regina refuses it. She turns off the phone, doesn’t want to deal with whatever Emma wants to tell her. A tiny voice tells her that Emma’s probably searching for Henry. But Regina decides she’ll inform her later. It might be selfish, but having this moment here, alone with Henry, is a gift she doesn’t want to share.

“Mom?” Henry’s now facing her through the mirror. He doesn’t know it’s the door to her hideout. Her heart aches for him, to hold him. Her precious, little boy. And she can’t just leave him standing there. She makes a decision and unlocks the door. 

Henry had just turned to move further into the vault, but when he hears the door unlock he whirls around. “Mom?” he says, softly, pushing the door open, “Mom?” And then there he is, the only one in this whole world that matters and he throws himself into her arms.    
  
“Oh,” she breathes with a hint of surprise, tears in her eyes, wrapping her own arms around him while she shuts the door. She sighs deeply, closes her eyes, and for the first time in days, she feels something else than helplessness, loneliness, despair .  “Henry, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says with a wavering voice. She lets go of his shoulders and grabs his hands instead, and he looks at her. “I missed you so much when…” she starts, but can’t find the words. “I have to let you know that I had nothing to do with Archie,” she continues, looking straight into his eyes. He needs to know that it is the truth. 

“I know,” Henry replies, his gaze even, no trace of sadness or hurt, “I always knew.” 

“I was framed,” Regina goes on, “I don’t know how, I - It just seems like everything…” She stops when Henry looks at her, head slightly tilted. “You  _ knew _ ?” She frowns surprised. “How did you know?” 

“Simple,” he says, and the word has barely left his mouth when he’s enveloped in a purple haze, much darker than her own, and he transforms into her own mother. Regina’s blood seems to freeze in her veins as she automatically steps back. “Because I did it,” Cora says, a smirk on her face.

“Mother,” she breathes. Her breath quavering, she adds, “You… I thought we stopped you.” Cora slowly moves forward, and instinctively, Regina takes a few steps back. “How did you get through?” Fear flashes through a body, a cold hand wraps around her heart. 

“Determination,” her mother says, face earnest, eyes piercing. “I had to see you. I needed to tell you that I know why you sent me through the looking glass and I know why you tried to have me killed.” Cora’s eyes grow wet, but Regina’s still staring at her in distrust, fear and disbelief as the smaller woman says, “And it’s… It’s all right.”

“I think it’s not all right,” Regina says, emotions churning inside her. She fears her mother deeply, always has, but she also loves her. It’s still her mother, despite all the horrific things Cora has put her through. Parental love is peculiar like that. She’s still always looking for her mother’s approval. Her love. Having her mother killed had been one of the hardest sacrifices she'd ever had to make.

“I love you,” Cora says, and Regina can’t help but shake her head lightly in disbelief, “I just.. I’ve always shown it in all the wrong ways.”

It's completely and utterly unfair. These words, this admission is the one she always wanted to hear from her mother, but there’s also still a suspicion that she cannot shake. That Cora is saying them to soften her up. To break her all over again. But then, Cora’s next words take her by surprise. “And I never should have made you marry the king.” 

Breath catches in Regina’s throat, she can’t swallow the lump, and her bottom lip trembles, her own eyes filling with tears. Cora apologizes. Cora Mills barely ever apologizes. The acknowledgment that she’d made a mistake by accepting a marriage for her daughter, one she’d never wanted, turns her insides upside down. She looks away from her mother, who whispers, “I’m so sorry.” 

Regina can’t speak, emotions raging inside her, fearing an ulterior motive - Cora always has other plans, other schemes to play out - and Cora continues, a single tear streaking her face. “When you cried over my coffin it…” Cora shakes her head lightly, seems overcome by emotion. “It all changed.” 

“You framed me,” Regina says softly, tears in her own eyes. She needs to hold on to what she knows. To what her mother has done to her to isolate her. She needs to cling to the facts she knows are real. “For the cricket.” 

“Temporarily,” Cora sniffs, “So you could see what these people really think of you.” 

“You made an airtight case. Anyone would believe it,” Regina retorts, raising her voice in desperation. I believe you, she hears whispering in her mind. She feels how the anger rises inside her. Cora made her lose Henry all over again. She’d worked so hard for a hint of approval from her son. And her own mother had shattered the fragile new bond into pieces.

“I didn’t want you to reject me,” Cora says, her own voice trembling, tears in the corners of her eyes, “Not again.”

Regina shakes her head. “You wanted me broken,” she hisses, eyes narrowed.

“Receptive,” corrects Cora, but Regina scoffs. A single tear rolls over her face. It’s anger, sadness, frustration, all lined up in one single drop. 

“You are the most manipulative…” she starts, shaking her head, unable to find the words. She curls her hands into fists and uncurls them immediately after. “No, I won’t even argue. Come with me,” she says, striking a tendril of hair behind her ear, string past her mother towards the door. “We’re going to town.” 

“It’s the middle of the night!” Cora says as Regina reaches the door. The brunette grabs the doorknob before she whirls her head towards her mother.

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “We’ll wake them up, Emma and Henry, and the two idiots and you can tell them how you lied.” Her voice nearly breaks. “You owe me that.” 

“And then you’ll let us start over?” Cora says, voice small. Almost hopeful. 

Regina’s angry, heartbroken, feels powerless, used once more and so, so lonely. “I don’t see that happening, mother,” she replies, “But I am - I was trying so hard to be worthy of Henry.” She feels how another tear slips from her face. “And I deserve the same thing from you.” 

“You’re right,” Cora concedes swiftly, another tear streaking her face, as well. “For you, sweetheart. Anything.” 

Regina’s determined, determined to reveal the truth. She knows she could have just called Emma and have Cora talk to her on the phone, but Emma’s not the problem. Emma believes in her. It’s Henry who needs to see that she is not the villain in this story. Her mother is. The same counts for the two insipid morons. She wants a sincere apology from them, for jumping to the easiest conclusion by dismissing everything she’s worked so hard for these last couple of weeks. 

She tells her mother to get into the Mercedes and leaves the graveyard with screeching tires. It is dark, indeed. Regina has lost track of time these last couple of days. She throws a sideways glance at her mother. “Nervous?” she asks her because she sees how shifty her mother is. She raises an eyebrow at her.

“Not about owning up to what I’ve done,” Cora replies, “It’s just… These carriages are strange.” She chuckles. “And something’s… irritating me.” She wriggles a little, pulls something out from under her and says surprised: “Oh. Oh! For mommy.” She laughs. “That used to be you!” 

“When were you in my house?” Regina asks, voice strained when the hurt pierces her stomach. She’s angry. 

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Cora smoothly replies, studying the red-painted clay containing a handprint of Henry. He’d given it to her after his first week of kindergarten. He had beamed with pride when he’d given it to her and she’d praised him the entire day.

Cora’s lying through her teeth, Regina knows, and internally, she’s seething. “That was in my house,” she says, trying to control her rage. “Think I don’t know where that was? It’s one of my most treasured possessions.” She feels tears sting behind her eyes. It’s pure fury. 

“Well,” Cora says, “Let’s be honest. Taking me to be pilloried by the town might gain you some points, but as long as Emma and her parents are here, he’s not really yours.”

Her mother knows exactly which buttons to push. Regina hates that she still has so much control over her.

“Not like he was when he made things for his one and only mommy,” Cora continues relentlessly. “You’ve been too bad for too long.” Each word is a dagger plunging into Regina’s chest, “and now they see you as a… a snake.” 

Regina swallows thickly, wills the tears back. She  _ knows _ it’s true - it’s what she believes as well, that Henry will never be hers again - but this is her mother talking. Manipulative all the time. Cora wants her broken. Wants her alone. Wants her vulnerable.  _ I believe you. _ She clings to Emma’s words, but her mother is persuasive. Still her mother. Regina still yearns for her, loves her back no matter what. And Cora knows Regina’s still seeking her approval.

She knows her daughter better than anyone in the world.

“You don’t want their love at all,” Cora says, eyeing her closely. “You want your son’s love.” 

It’s not a question. Her jaw clenches, eyes straight forward on the road as she feels her mother’s eyes prying.

“I want him back,” Regina quietly says. And she does. But not just physically. She wants him to look at her like he did when he was little. Full of love and adoration. She can only hope that that is a ship that hasn’t sailed, that they can have it again.

Regina reaches the loft, parks the car, and her fingers turn the key. The engine shuts off, keys remaining in the lock when Cora turns to her in the sudden silence. “And I want my daughter back,” she says, softly, “I meant everything I said earlier. I am so sorry. I can do better. I won’t push you away again.” She pauses and Regina looks at her, sees the familiar face, hears the words she’s longed to hear for so long. “Let me into your heart,” Cora quietly finishes. 

There’s a battle raging inside Regina. Part of her wants to believe Cora so badly, wishes to believe that she is speaking the truth, longs for a mother, for family. The other part is ringing the alarm bells, cries that she’s lying and manipulating because that’s what Cora does. But she’s exhausted from her own thoughts, from loneliness, from fighting and worrying about her mother.

“Together, we can get him back.”

Regina breaks, gives up resisting her mother, craving for human touch, is missing her son so hard right now. She bows her head, leans over to her mother, and feels how tears start to fall again. Cora pulls her against herself, pushes Regina’s face to her shoulder. Regina closes her eyes, feels her mother’s hand touch her hair, and whispers, “How?”

She feels how her mother smiles against her head. Can picture in her mind how it looks. “Oh, I have a few thoughts,” she murmurs, softly striking her daughter’s hair. Regina’s so, so tired. And for a moment, she allows herself to drown in motherly love. Allows herself to have this moment with her mother. This is how it’s supposed to be, between a mother and a child, is it not?

Still, she’s wary of her. Cora needs something from her, she’s sure. The thing she’s not so sure about is if those things align with her own needs and want, or if they're just for their own personal gain.

She sighs, unable to battle her treacherous feelings, longs for a family, longs for her mother, her son, and feels a bit of tension leave her body, leans just a little more into the embrace. Feels her mother’s smile against her skin.

They never make it to the loft. Instead, they teleport to the mansion. Regina can prove she’s innocent because her mother will come clean, but after all the emotions she’s had today, she’s exhausted. Besides, waking up Henry - it’s not in his best interest. He wouldn’t be able to - or want to - come with her anyway. It’s best to wait until morning. At least she doesn’t have to hide in her vault anymore.

And it is only the next morning that Regina remembers that her phone is still turned off. When she switches it back on, there are numerous missed calls from Emma, a couple of voicemail messages and urgent text that she needs to call Emma back. 

She disregards the voicemails and scrolls to the texts urging her to call Emma back, stops scrolling when she reaches one of the last ones.  _ Regina, be careful. Cora is in town. _

She smirks without joy. Yes. She is much aware of that.

She’s still looking at the phone when it rings, and there’s a jolt of adrenaline rushing through her body when she sees who it is, and she accepts the call. 

“Regina, finally,” she hears Emma. “We need to talk.” 

“Yes, we most certainly do,” Regina agrees. “Let’s meet at the docks in fifteen minutes.”

~*~

Emma is already waiting, she sits at one of the benches as Regina teleports in. Emma seems anxious and jumps up the moment Regina materializes next to her. “Jesus, Regina, you scare the crap out of me every time you do that.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Regina retorts, a small but satisfying smirk around her lips. 

“Cora’s in town,” Emma blurts out.

“Yes. I am well aware.” Regina’s eyes linger on Emma before she sits one bench over. Her eyes scan the surroundings for people who pass by, but the only thing she hears is the water, cobbling against the docks. The sky is grey, and she pulls her coat tighter as a gust of wind ruins her hair. Autumn has arrived. The dull, grey weather is a perfect reflection of her own mood. 

Emma’s eyes grow wide. “How?”

Regina sighs. “She sought me out, yesterday. Told me she was the one who killed Archie and she promised me to turn herself in and confess to it today.” She feels relieved that this ordeal will be over. That she’ll be exonerated from these ridiculous charges. “I’ll personally make sure that she stops by the station today.”

But Emma doesn’t seem relieved. In fact, Emma’s brow furrows and Regina feels she’s doing the same upon that reaction. “Regina,” Emma starts, slowly, “I tried to call you, late yesterday evening to tell you that Archie… he’s not dead.”

“I…” Regina starts and then blinks confused. “Wait… what?”

"I tried to call you several times to tell you.” It almost sounds like an accusation and it immediately raises Regina’s irritation levels. “Yesterday,” Emma continues, “I… Henry and I were at the loft, Pongo rushed to the door, and there he was. Archie. Alive. He told him Cora had abducted him. She and Hook, they held him on Hook’s ship.” 

So that’s how they’d gotten to Storybrooke in the first place. Hook’s ship. Regina hadn’t even bothered to ask her mother yesterday. She’s more worried about the fact that Cora’d neglected to tell her that Archie wasn’t dead at all, and wonders what that all means. Emma’s investigating gaze picks up on it. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“No. She… failed to mention it.” Regina swallows, stares out over the seas. Her mother never does anything without considerate deliberation. It must mean something that she refrained from telling her that in fact, Archie is alive.

She’s relieved, though. Not just about the fact that she has been exonerated, but that he is alive, as well. He’s one of the few, albeit a little wary, supporters she has in this godforsaken town.

“Do you know what Cora wants?” Emma asks her. Regina’s vision blurs, her eyes unfocus as she relives the conversation she and her mother had yesterday. The drive over to the loft where they never arrived because Regina had succumbed to the pressure, succumbed to the longing of family. 

Loneliness is a bitch.

“She seems to want to reconnect with me. She.....” Regina stops, uncharacteristically unsure of what she wants to share with the blonde. Emma is not on her side, per se. Believing that Regina didn’t kill Archie doesn’t necessarily make her an ally, but… like Emma told her before, it’s the best she has.

Regina gives in.

“She wants to reconcile... Wants us to be together again.” The brunette sighs. Yesterday evening, in the car, it felt so real for a moment. Now, she is not so sure. Her mother is deliberate, manipulative. 

Emma knows it, too. She’s dealt with Cora in the enchanted forest.  _ Your mother is a piece of work, you know?  _ Emma had said right after Regina absorbed the destructive magic from the well to allow Emma and Snow to return home. Regina remembers Emma’s step closer to where she’d collapsed against the tree. The panted words, the out-of-breath sound that mirrored her own when she replied,  _ Indeed I do. Welcome back _ . 

She’s conflicted and tired. So, so exhausted of constantly having to battle on all fronts, questioning herself, questioning everyone around her. She’s been used so many times, has used others equally, that she can’t rely on anyone else but herself. Her loyalty lies with her, and herself alone, but it sometimes complicates things. It sometimes makes her spiral into her own thoughts. It keeps her caged in her head.

She leans back and closes her eyes. She doesn’t trust anymore. She can’t. Not completely. Her entire life people have used her to gain something for themselves. Cora wanted to become royalty. She’d achieved it through her daughter. Snow wanted a mother and got Daniel killed. Rumplestiltskin needed to go to the land without magic and he did, after he so carefully manipulated her into casting the curse.

And Emma has her son, so she can’t do anything else other than to comply with her. The uneven balance makes her wary. Emma can say  _ I believe you  _ a thousand times over, but as long as the playing field isn’t even, Regina can’t afford to place any trust in anyone.

And yet, it feels… good to have someone to talk to. Besides Cora. “Tell me about her,” Emma quietly says. 

“Hm,” Regina hums, eyes closed, not knowing what she wants to share. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

But Emma keeps quiet, lets Regina figure out her thoughts and words. Regina appreciates it. She decides to share the information that Emma already knows. “My mother,” the brunette starts, “She's always been strict. Harsh. Always wanted the best for me, or so she kept telling me, but also always with an underlying motive that benefitted her more than it ever did me. She would not take no for an answer. Wouldn’t allow disobedience.”

She touches her upper lip which is decorated with a small scar. Feels how Emma’s eyes follow her hand to her mouth. She can still vividly remember the day Cora gave her that scar, can still picture all the blood it generated in her mind. She was so little then. She can’t share that story. Knowledge is power. Until she knows what either party really wants from her, she can’t overshare to either Emma or Cora. However, what she can do is give Emma a little insight into her former family relations by giving up some information. “Mother... She says she regrets it now, but she accepted the marriage proposal to the king when he requested a stepmother for his daughter after I saved her from a runaway horse. Mother always wanted me to be queen. I guess she succeeded in the end.” She swallows away some of the bitterness. 

“Well, that’s really fucked up,” Emma murmurs, and Regina scoffs. She can’t agree more. But hearing those words makes her wonder how much of what Cora told her is real. How much she really wants to reconcile. Wonders if she’s not out for revenge, instead, for what Regina’s done to her. Or to claim power for herself, now that Regina’s had to concede hers.

She swallows away a lump in her throat. “Right before my… wedding, I pushed her through an enchanted mirror, a… looking glass. It trapped her in Wonderland. And when I cast the Dark Curse I sent Hook after her to kill her. Because no matter how hard she made it for me to love her, I still did - I couldn’t do it myself. And love, she always told me, is weakness. When there’s someone you love, someone else has power over you. With the curse upon the Enchanted Forest, I couldn’t risk it. But now...”

Emma is quiet. When Regina looks up, the blonde seems lost in her own thoughts. “We can’t choose family, huh?” Emma finally says quietly. There’s a storm raging in her green eyes that confuse Regina because she thinks she understands Emma, and at the same time they’re at such a different level that she never will. Good versus bad, she reminds herself. Never lose sight of which side you belong to. Emma’s on the good side. Regina always her opposite.

“I suppose we can’t,” Regina answers after a few seconds of silence. “I know my mother. She’s conniving, deliberate, and a highly manipulative and cunning witch.”

“Be careful with her, Regina,” Emma says, now tilting her head. “You’ve come so far already. Cora, she’s… She’s bad news.”

It riles Regina up. It’s one thing that she’s the one basically betraying her mother, it’s another thing to have someone from the other side badmouth her mother. “Don’t you think I know that?” she snaps, a primal urge to defend her mother rising inside her. “Cora does nothing but to help herself. But she is also  _ my mother _ . And I’m not going to help you murder her.”

“I know,” Emma retorts fiercely, voice raised to match Regina’s, “I would never ask that of you. But we might want to… I don’t know, figure out what she’s really up to.”

Regina’s quiet for a little while. Apart from really wishing that her mother wants this reconciliation so badly that she was willing to cross realms for it, she really doesn’t know what Cora’s grand plan is. “Let me try and win her trust and see what she’s after,” she offers a little tentatively. She hasn’t decided yet if it is a good idea to offer it in the first place, but the words have already come out and she can’t take them back anymore. She turns her head to face the blonde, finds Emma looking at her intently.

“I don’t want to put you in danger.” The blonde frowns. She always seems to frown, Regina thinks absentmindedly. There’s only a handful of encounters during which Emma didn’t frown. Including their very first one, when Regina found herself asking,  _ You’re his birth mother?  _ and Emma’s tentative smile when answering with a hesitant _Hi_. 

Regina scoffs. “Well, between maybe having to suffer the wrath of one of the most powerful witches ever alive and a town wanting to murder me, I believe I already am in danger.” She lifts an eyebrow.

Emma smiles a bit strained. As if this isn’t something she can rally behind. Why is that, Regina wonders. “You have to keep me up to date,” Emma says.

"Why?” Regina’s brow furrows. Anger flares up when wariness grows. “You don’t trust me, Miss Swan?” she bites.

Emma ignores the sneer. “I believe you’ll do anything to prove to Henry that you’re changing. So, I trust you to do the right thing,” Emma says. It’ll have to do, Regina thinks, even if she doesn’t like it. But she can’t really blame Emma. Because Regina doesn’t quite trust her, either. 

Emma’s not done yet. “But I also believe that because she’s your mother, you’re susceptible to her attempts to persuade you. So I think it’s good to have me as a, I don’t know, inner voice, an angel on your shoulder, to debate if it’s true what she tells you or if she’s plotting something.”

The words are condescending and Regina wants to react to them but in the end, she reluctantly has to admit that Emma's right. And so, Regina snorts instead, “More like a little demon,” she murmurs, which draws a chuckle from the blonde.

“Fine. I’ll be your little demon,” Emma answers, a twinkle in her eyes. 

The moment is almost… friendly. And it confuses Regina.

She didn’t realize she craved the companionship, but she does, and it makes her rise from her seat abruptly. She needs to have a little distance between her and Emma, because the way she wants it, _needs_ frightens her. “I have to go," she thus says, "Mother will wonder where I am if I’m gone too long.”

Emma nods. “All right. Call me around 8, every night, when you can. You can, I don’t know, talk, vent, cry, scream. Whatever you need. I’ll be there for you. We’ll find the truth, Regina. Together.”

The sincerity of those words along with the offer itself catches Regina’s breath. She’s taken aback by the offer, but all she can muster is a nod. “Very well, Miss Swan. I will call you at eight. And tell Henry…” Her voice dies out. She doesn’t know what she wants to tell him. She misses him. Wants to be near him. Wants to bring him home. Wants to hold him, never let him go again. Wants to tell him she loves him so, so much.

And she can’t, not because Emma won’t allow her, but because Cora’s hovering over Regina. Cora, who, albeit her promises, is still a danger to the only person Regina loves. 

Emma’s mouth curves into a little smile. Sympathy that Regina doesn’t need shines in her eyes, but the words she speaks comfort her anyway.

“I’ll tell him.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Trigger warnings - character death, manipulation

It is not eight o’clock yet when Regina calls Emma. She’s upset, no, she’s furious. Freaking out. Seething with rage.

She found out by accident. Because she couldn’t bear the distance any longer and she’d gone to the loft to see Henry. Pleaded - fucking _groveled -_ with Snow that she needed to see her son, that she could protect him. She only wanted to see him, if only briefly, because she was weak, weak, _weak,_ and needed to know that he was well taken care of with her own eyes. 

Only to discover that both Emma and Henry have left town. Not only couldn’t the charmed idiots tell her where the two of them are, but she was also given a pretty condescending _To be honest, Regina, I don’t think Emma has to run anything by you_ from Snow. 

It’s only _this morning_ that she met Emma at the docks. Emma, who’d told her to call if she needed to vent. Well, she definitely needs to vent now. And more than that. Her fingers curl into a fist. She’d punched Emma before, and even though she realizes that there are more effective ways to display her anger, she’d have gladly done it again if Emma had shown up on her doorstep right now.

She frantically tries to call Emma. Once, twice. Ten times. Emma doesn’t pick up - the phone goes straight to voicemail, and it only fuels her rage. How _dare_ she? How dare she take her son and not tell her anything - and turn her fucking phone off in the process? For God’s sake, the woman talks about trust and gives _nothing_ in return. How can they establish _any_ cooperation based on mutual understanding if Emma doesn’t even give her the courtesy of letting her know that she left with her son?! The anger keeps on building in her stomach, starts to pound in her head, and when more time passes without any sign of life, restless energy settles in her nerves.

Then, there’s a text. _I'll call you later. Something’s come up._

“You think?!” Regina barks at the phone, whirling it away on her bed. That _woman._ Frustration claws at her throat and unsettles her stomach, the helplessness coils in her belly. She can’t believe that Emma of all people did this to her. She feels so betrayed. 

Regina experiences a couple of antagonizing hours of worrying about Henry and being infuriated with Emma. Her emotions get the better of her. In the meantime, her mother sends her on an errand - as if she’s a freaking errand boy, she scoffs internally - to meet Hook, because her mother needs her _things_ off the ship, only to learn that the idiots have unleashed a giant on the town who wants to murder Prince Charming. Well, good riddance, she thinks. 

In fact, she’s so angry with Emma and even more so with Snow that she decides to aid him on his murderous rampage, and goes out to find him. When she does, Regina offers him his chance for revenge on the prince and when she sees him off with a smirk, she still finds herself angry. Truthfully, her seeking out the giant had been impulsive, vindictive even. Maybe it was petty, but she just really enjoys seeing the Charming clan squirm. 

Well. That’s what you get when you mess with the Evil Queen.

And Emma _still_ hasn’t called her back. 

She returns to the mansion, still angry and anxious, storms past her mother and stomps upstairs, past Henry’s room into her own. She slams the door behind her, shoulders slightly hunched, clenching and unclenching her fists. She thinks of Snow and her condescending words. That stuck up little bitch. If she hadn’t controlled herself this morning, she’d have murdered Snow with a flick of her wrist in her own loft. How dare she? She, who had taken _everything_ from her the moment Regina’d saved her from a runaway horse, starting with Daniel, how _dare_ she tell her to what she is or isn’t entitled? 

She vaguely hears someone at the door and she whirls around, only to find Cora standing in the door’s opening. She takes one look at her daughter and leads her to the bed, covering Regina’s hands with her own. “What is it, sweetie?” she quietly asks. So quiet that it’s… uncharacteristic of her. Regina is wary of that tone, doesn’t want to talk and at the same time, she finds that she wants to spit it all out. She isn’t sure of her mother’s intentions but at the same time… she’s _here._ Available - and Emma, despite her promise to be so, is not. And Regina’s frustrated to the bone.

She looks into the sympathetic eyes of her mother. Feels the towering rage she experiences because of Emma right now. What the hell. 

She needs to talk to _someone,_ ventilate, something she would’ve done to Emma if she would have picked up her goddamn phone but Emma hasn’t answered or returned any of her calls. She breathes. In, and out. Inhale. Exhale. It calms her down a little, it enables her to control her breathing. Her mother is the _only_ option Emma’s left her with. “It’s Henry,” she finally says, the same quiet volume of her mother, trying to control the burning anger inside, “Emma left town with Gold, and she took him with her.” 

“And you didn’t stop them?” Cora inquires immediately, eyebrows raised. Regina can almost feel the disappointment, the accusation of her gaze and she automatically winces. 

“I didn’t know until after they’d gone,” Regina says snappily, looking at her mother. Of course she would’ve stopped them if she’d _known_.

“I’m sure he’s safe,” Cora reassures her, voice soothing. “And as soon as Gold’s done, Henry will be back.”

“But not with me,” Regina murmurs, eyes at her mother’s face. Not only didn’t Emma grant her the courtesy of letting her know that she was taking Henry, it’s also become painfully obvious that Emma believes that Regina’s not entitled to her own son. Cora reaches out for her, squeezes her hand, tugs at it and Regina leans closer, laying her head at her mother’s shoulder. She knows Cora. She is wary of her mother’s plans. Remembers Emma’s warnings. But right now, Cora’s also comfort, comfort she so desperately needs now her son has been taken away by the person who warned her for her mother in the first place. She closes her eyes briefly, emotions churning inside her belly.

“We’ll get him back,” Cora hums, and Regina finds it soothing. Her mother’s voice, always harsh, strict when she grew up, barely a kind word, is now calming her nerves. And she exhales. Allows herself to relax, even if it’s just a little.

Her mother talks to her quietly. About returning Henry, about her plan to do so. Regina sighs, registers the words, stares ahead without seeing anything. She doesn't know how much time passes until when Hook shows up - Regina immediately tenses when he does - Cora informs him that Rumplestiltskin has left town, whereabouts unknown. She stops Hook from going after him and instead, concocts her own plan to retrieve the Dark One’s dagger so they can control him upon his return. Regina, still upset and antsy for something to _do_ , goes to talk to Belle, who’s in the hospital with her curse memories and finds a possible location of the dagger.

She knows this does not aid her path of change. But it aids her in keeping herself busy. It aids her in restoring the bond with her mother - despite the talk she had with Emma, it is something she deep down wants to believe in. Despite everything in their past, it’s her _mother_. And it aids her to get back at Rumplestiltskin because let’s face it, she’s not the only villain in this small-minded cursed town.

Hours later, Regina finds herself in the library, staring at a map that Hook deciphered. They know where the dagger is. It’s exhilarating, having her senses heightened. This little quest of theirs awakened something she hasn’t felt in a while. The sense of _belonging_ , even if it is - again - to a villain’s party. And who is she kidding? She’s a villain. She doesn’t belong on the other side.

 _I believe you_ , whispers in her ears. No, if she’s completely honest with herself, she’d felt it when she and Emma were in her vault, trying to figure out who was setting her up. Even this morning at the docks with their almost friendly encounter. But the moment hasn’t lasted, she bitterly thinks. It flew out of the window with Emma breaking her word immediately without a second thought after leaving Regina at the docks early this morning. 

“I give you the location of the dagger,” Hook proudly announces with an exaggerated gesture - one that immediately irritates Regina. She doesn’t know why, but the pirate always sets her off. Cora leans in to have a closer look at the map.

“Well done, Hook,” she says, before quickly snatching the map away. “We’ll take it from here.” 

Regina stands surprised for a short second, but then automatically follows her mother. 

“No,” Hook barks, anxious now, disbelief about being betrayed written all over his face while his gaze shoots from Cora to Regina and back. “You promised me!” 

Cora raises her hands, throws Hook to the floor with a flick of her wrist and hurls him into the bookshelves. Regina suppresses a gasp. “The kris dagger’s much too powerful to be wasted on you,” Cora tells his unconscious form with a purr, before she turns around, lifting her hand to motion Regina to tag along with her. Slowly, the sense of belonging fades and is replaced with a feeling she knows all too well when it comes to her mother. Betrayal.

Apparently, it’s National Betray Regina Mills Day. 

“So,” Regina slowly says, halting Cora’s departure, “Is… this what it was all about? Getting Rumple’s dagger so you could obtain his dark powers?” 

Cora looks at her and Regina can’t read her mother’s eyes, which instantly makes her wary. “If _we_ possess the dagger, we control the Dark One,” Cora says almost serenely. “And when he returns to Storybrooke, we can command him to kill Snow White, Prince Charming, and Emma.” A vicious smirk settles around Cora’s mouth while Regina suppresses a shiver. She cannot show any sign of weakness. Her mother will be relentless. “Our enemies will be vanquished and you will be blameless in the eyes of the only person who matters.” Cora raises her hand, cups Regina’s face, strokes her hair softly.

“Henry,” Regina whispers, forcing herself to smile while her mother’s fingers run through her hair. Cora returns the smile, nudges her towards the door. And all Regina can think about is Henry, her promise not to lie to him. But she knows she needs to protect him. And, as much as she dislikes the idea right now, she needs to protect Emma, too. Henry would never forgive her if anything happened to his biological mother. 

So, now she’s lost both of her potential allies, Regina’s back on her own. Like she’s used to. And she decides to play along with Cora’s game until she finds something that benefits herself. 

They return home, Cora excuses herself and locks herself up in the study with the dagger, while Regina ventures upstairs. And then finally, _finally_ Emma calls her back and Regina is not able to hold back on her pent-up fury, relieved to know that Henry’s safe at the same time. 

In New York.

“You’re _where?_ ” Regina chokes on her own breath, pressing the cell phone to her ear until it hurts. “What the hell were you _thinking_ , Miss Swan?”

Emma sounds shaken up, but Regina feels _so much_ herself that she can’t really take Emma’s feelings into account. “Gold came to collect,” she answers softly, as if she can’t talk freely. As if something has severely shaken her up. Regina doesn’t care, not now. “He wanted to leave straight away. And with Cora staying with you and my parents… well, I believed it best to take him with me. It all went so fast. But no harm can befall him here.”

“New York!? There are hundreds of ways he can get harmed there!” Regina exclaims, picturing the horrors of a big city in her mind immediately. Kidnappers, child abusers, murderers--

“There’s something else you must know.” Emma’s voice is terse, which raises Regina’s hackles instantly. 

“I’m not sure if I want to know, but I’m _sure_ you’re going to enlighten me anyway.” She can’t help the sarcasm in her voice.

“Gold, he went to find his son.” Emma‘s voice sounds strained. There’s an odd tone that immediately causes Regina to tense even more. “And we’ve found him. I can’t believe…” Her voice dies, she inhales shakily and exhales the same, as if she’s looking for words. When she continues, she speaks with a croaked voice. “Regina… Gold’s son, Neal, he… he is Henry’s father.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which Regina blinks slowly, while she tries to process the information.

“He’s _what_ ?” Regina explodes. She’d thought she had guarded herself for whatever news Emma was about to torture her with, but this hasn’t even come to her mind. Not even _close_.

“He… he says he didn’t know who I was when we met,” Emma murmurs apologetically, “Not right away, anyway.” There’s hurt in her voice, Regina faintly recognizes it, because she shares the feeling. Regina is desperate. With every word, she feels Henry further slipping away from her. She has adopted him. She’s cared for him for more than ten years. Changed his diapers, dealt with his tantrums, kissed his tears away. And yet, she finds herself in this awful and hurtful place, involuntarily surrendering all her parental rights to an ever-expanding family to which she doesn't belong. She hasn’t even _talked_ to him after Archie turned up alive. “How many lost family members will you drag here without informing me?” Regina bites at her. 

“I get why you’re upset, but I really didn’t know.” Emma’s a little defensive now. 

“That seems to happen a lot around you, doesn’t it?” Regina sinks into an armchair in her bedroom. “I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore,” she bitterly adds.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Emma protests, but it only fuels Regina’s despair and, subsequently, her anger. 

“ _Fair?_ Do you know what isn’t _fair?”_ Regina raves, “The fact that you keep piling up misery on misery on my end and think you can get away with a simple apology, whereas _I_ have to answer for every misstep I take. If I would have been the one who’d taken away Henry without informing you where we were going, what would you’ve done?” They both know that Emma would’ve moved heaven and earth to get to Henry. “The fact that you belong to the hero clan doesn’t mean that you can go around and… _bulldozer_ over others because you _believe_ that’s best. Best for who? Correct me if I’m wrong, Miss Swan, but villainous behavior truly only lies in the eye of the beholder, don’t you think!?”

Emma remains quiet which sets Regina off even more. “You speak of belief and trust, but you’ve been keeping double standards from the start. You want me to trust you, but you’ve never given me the same courtesy. You could’ve at least shown some decency and inform me beforehand that you were taking _my_ son?” She scoffs. “And they call _me_ a villain.” Regina pants heavily, knows her words have reached the other side of the line because she can hear Emma’s shallow breath. 

“You’re right,” Emma murmurs. “Look, I’m sorry, but-”

Regina breaks the connection before she can say anything else. She wants to cry out in anger, feels how her fingers curl into a fist, and lets her nails sink into the palm of her hand, wants to share the hurt that she’s feeling inside. 

But there’s nobody there to hurt. Just herself. She tightens her grip.

Her phone beeps and Regina looks down. She clenches her teeth. Emma has sent her a text that they will be home in the morning and that Gold will stay behind, trying to convince Neal of joining them in Storybrooke. She growls, squeezes the phone so hard that she’s momentarily worried she breaks it. She doesn’t _want_ the man here. Doesn’t _want_ him anywhere _near_ Henry. Let them rot in New York together.

“Regina, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She whirls around, anger oozing out of her. Of course, Cora picks up on that. Regina opens her mouth to say something - anything - but she can’t. “They’re in New York. Henry and Rumple. Emma,” she finally brings out, the pain of betrayal evident in her voice. She can't take much more of it today. “A… a city. Big. Emma called.” 

“She called?” Cora looks momentarily puzzled until Regina almost reluctantly holds up her phone. Cora’s not familiar with these modern-day devices and still has to get used to all the lingo, but recognition shines in her eyes when she understands what happened.

“They found Gold’s son. H-He’s… Henry’s father,” Regina stammers, desperately wants to have someone in her corner right now. Needs to share. But it appears she’s gotten too comfortable around Cora. Has forgotten the sharpness, the disapproval, the rejection Cora poured over her when she was younger. 

“Oh you foolish, foolish girl.” Cora's face momentarily crunches up into something Regina hasn't seen in forever. It’s just a split second that she sees the cold white rage, the devilish features but they evaporate in a blink of an eye, and it is as if it was never there, leaving Regina to wonder if it was real or if it was just a figment of her imagination. She’s seen that face before when she interfered with her mother's plans. When she took a potion to make herself infertile.

Regina winces, suppresses a shudder, and knows immediately that this is information she shouldn’t have shared. “Did you keep in touch with her?” Cora insists to know, “It was her who initiated it, is it not? Why do you think Emma wants to keep an eye on you? She is the one who _took your son_.” 

“No, I-” Regina starts a weak protest, but Cora waltzes over her.

“She is the one who's keeping him from you, is she not? She dictates whether you get to see him.” She narrows her eyes and Regina grits her teeth.

“Yes, but-”

Cora scoffs, raises her hand to silence her daughter and Regina, in a Pavlovian response rooted in the experiences of her youth, snaps her jaws shut and averts her eyes while her mother continues to reprimand her. “You're a dog, begging for scraps, Regina. She has you leashed and you oblige to every whim when she only gives you a hint that you can spend time with Henry. That is not right. You are his mother more than she ever was or will be.”

It hits her where it hurts the most. Cora takes the phone from her and holds her between thumb and index finger as if it is something dirty. "The only thing Emma has ever done for you is ruin your family. Why would you ever place any trust in her?"

 _Do you trust me? Not a chance in hell._ But Regina had. And taking Henry to New York has severely damaged any form of bond they were tentatively building up. “I don’t trust her,” Regina says, but it feels like a halfhearted response. A whisper in the wind as Cora envelops her in a hug. Regina momentarily stiffens, because she’s still not used to Cora’s displays of affections - real or not - which she never had as a child.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” Cora murmurs, pulling her in her arms when Regina desperately tries to shake the feeling of betrayal once more. "You'll always have me."

It’s as if Regina’s floating between two worlds, both are pulling at her. Sometimes the one pulls harder, sometimes the other. She wants her son, needs him. It’s why she needs Emma. Emma, who speaks of trust and _I believe you_ , and then takes her son away. And Cora, always looking out for her own best interest, always searching for more _power_ , who knows how to sweet-talk Regina, knows how to involve her own schemes. Promises her Henry, wants to reconcile and sometimes seems sincere which should make her wary if it weren’t for her own emotions. Her emotions, always so strong, always fierce. They guide her.

Cora cradles her, hums comforting words in her ears. Regina so desperately wants to have someone. Love someone. She’s weak.

She’s lost.

~*~

The next morning she receives word from Snow about Henry, asking her to meet her at Granny’s. The meeting leaves her seething with fury. She should have known it is nothing more than an attempt to get to her. Snow warned her to pick the right side in the upcoming war. The side of good. _Why go back to being this way after how hard you tried?_ Snow, her ever condescending tone, her conviction that she’s always right. What did it get her, Regina had replied. _Dinner with a bunch of hypocrites, who pretend they’ll forgive me when, in their hearts, they know they never will._ Snow had turned her eyes away, knowing it to be true. And Regina had seen it. _Stay out of my way._ Regina had warned her, plain and clear. When she got up, Snow had warned Snow not to listen to Cora. Regina had scoffed. Said that listening to _Snow_ hadn’t done her much good. Who was she to tell her who to listen to? 

The darkness claws at her, wants to reel her in. It’s adamant, today. Pressing. After this morning’s encounter, yesterday’s phone call with Emma and her mother’s words, it’s everywhere around her. She paces up and down her kitchen, tries to recollect herself. Grabs a mandarin, intends to eat it in a sense of normalcy, but holds it in her hand. Tries not to storm out of this door and go directly for Snow’s heart. She knows that if she had it in her hand, she’d crush it to dust in an instance. The way she’s now crushing the mandarin.

Thump thump thump.

Someone’s pounding at her door, snapping her out of her murderous rage. She blinks, for a moment stares in wonder to the squashed mandarin in her hand, the fluids running through her fingers, when the sound starts again. She throws the mandarin in the bin, washes her hands and marches to the door, her anger not completely gone.

Regina yanks the door open. She withstands the urge to slam the door shut again immediately and rolls her eyes instead, breathes an annoyed sigh upon learning who it is, banging at her door. “What do I have to do to keep you away from my premises?” she snaps at Emma. 

The blonde looks… dejected. Regina doesn’t want to care. Doesn’t want to reach out to her. 

“We need to talk,” the blonde says.

“I tried to call you several times _yesterday_ to do just that and you never picked up, and now it’s too late. I think you’ve added enough misery to my life lately. Goodbye.” She steps back, moves to close the door. But when it’s almost shut, Emma speaks up.

“Henry, he said I’m exactly like you.” 

Regina stops. The door is just slightly open now. The words, they are stated as a fact. No feelings involved. They could’ve been bitter, as if Emma loathed to be like Regina. They could’ve been spoken in disbelief. But they’re not. There’s no emotion. It’s just a statement of a fact.

 _I don’t wanna be you,_ Henry had said when Regina had picked him up, right after getting her magic back. He was right not to want that. And that exact point the need to change surged inside her, the change she eventually so desperately wanted to find. At the time, she’d been staring at the spellbook that gave her her magic back for a while, before David barged in to see Henry and she had told her son to go with his grandfather. She told him that she didn’t know how to love very well. That if you hold onto someone too hard, that doesn’t make them love you. She promised him she’d try to be better. She had tried, for him, because she didn’t want him to see her as a monster. 

She didn’t want to see herself as a monster. It’s why she started to see Archie in the first place. 

Look what good that had done her. It turned out to be one big deception. She’s still firmly rooted in the darkness.

“Well. Welcome to the dark side,” Regina snarks. “How does it feel?”

“I never said I was _good_ ,” Emma says, not answering the sneer directly. “But I lied to him. About Neal. Baelfire. Gold’s son. Whatever his name he goes by these days. Apparently, that’s what makes him think...” She shakes her head, seems to change her train of thought when she utters the next words. “I’m an idiot.” There’s a flicker of… something undefined in Emma’s eyes. 

Regina snorts at her words. “ _Finally_ something we can agree on.” 

“It sucks, you know,” Emma continues, “Lying to Henry.” 

Another thing Regina agrees with. It’s been a recent development. 

“Hurts like a bitch,” Emma continues, “But I will do it if it keeps him safe. Even if he doesn’t understand. I don’t want him caught in the middle.” She shrugs, and it’s almost an apology. Regina waits, raises an eyebrow, sees that there’s more to come. “Henry, he believes in good and bad. Black and white. There’s nothing in between. My parents, they are the same. They believe that if you’re not for them, you’re against them.” Emma grins, albeit a little painfully. “At least Henry has an excuse of being a child.” 

It’s true. Snow and Charming share Henry’s world view. They can’t understand the other side of a story. Can’t empathize when the other side is so clearly marked as being villainous. Snow’s never taken responsibility for Daniels' death, not even when she learned the truth. It still makes Regina angry, just to think about it. It's exactly that, which set her on her route to becoming the Evil Queen in the first place. Never a genuine apology. 

Emma shuffles a little, moves her weight from one feet to the other. Regina remains silent, but doesn’t move. “But life… isn’t just that. Black and white. And I think _we_ both know there’s a lot of gray in between. Because that’s where we both live.” She sighs, shoulders slightly slumped and somehow, Regina’s interest is piqued. 

Emma raises her head to meet Regina’s eyes. “In a way, Henry’s right, you know. That we’re alike. Only not in the way he meant it.” 

Regina suppresses her surprise. This isn’t really how she figured this conversation would go. “And how do you think we’re alike?” she scoffs, but there’s a curiosity that she can’t fully hide.   
  
Emma smiles. “You and I, Regina… We know how it’s like to be abandoned. To be rejected. Henry doesn’t. My parents sure as hell don’t, not the way I do, not the way _you_ do.” She runs a hand through her hair. “What I want to say, What I came here for... I know what it feels like. And I didn’t think about your feelings when I had to make the decision to take Henry with me. I’m sorry. I disappointed you. You’re right. I’ve upheld double standards because like you, I’m used to relying on only myself and I should have considered you in the process.”

Regina can’t. Just can’t. Can’t deal with all her own pent-up anger that she wants to direct against Emma for taking her son. Can’t deal with an Emma who’s apologizing and understanding. Can’t deal with someone who might see more than a vindictive Evil Queen - which in essence, she still is. Emma offers her a way to rethink her life, to take a good look at herself. And she… she just can’t. She’s been the Evil Queen for so long, that she doesn’t know how to be anything else. There’s only hurt inside, hurt and a growing pile of guilt. She’s committed such horrible crimes - crimes she only started to acknowledge for what they were after she’d nearly killed her own child with an apple turnover - that she doesn’t even deserve to be anything else. Especially not a savior who claims to be at her side and is remorseful. Regina’s not used to being at the receiving end. All of it combined - her anxiety of having to reflect on herself and someone who’s too insightful - it makes her weary.

“What do you _want_ from me, Miss Swan?” Suddenly, Regina feels tired. Leans her head against the doorpost, eyes wandering away from Emma because she doesn’t want to see the look in her eyes. 

There’s a short pause. A shuffle as Emma shifts her weight from her one foot to the other. “The question is, what do _you_ want, Regina?”

Regina is silent. Her mind is still. 

Nobody’s ever asked her what _she_ wants. They always simply decided for her. Assumed what she wanted. For a moment, she simply doesn’t know. Can’t think of anything.

And Emma just stands there, head slightly tilted. She’s tired too, Regina sees. There are dark circles under her eyes. And there are shadows in Emma’s eyes, shadows she hasn’t spoken about. Yet. Regina slowly pushes the door open a little. It’s a tiny invite. A smile pulls at Emma’s mouth as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket. Her eyes are inviting, still waiting for Regina’s response.

And then, Regina’s head overflows with things she’d wanted for herself so many, many years ago when she was still filled with life, with hope of her own. She wants a home, she wants family, she wants a little farm far, far away from here, away from all these people that don’t know her, don’t want her. She wants connections, friends, she wants the darkness gone, she wants something _real_. She doesn’t want to look over her shoulder. She doesn’t want to balance good and evil. She wants Daniel back, wants the life she could’ve had. Wants to love. Wants to be loved. Wants… so many things she will never deserve and can never tell Emma Swan with her tilted head, understanding eyes and a tiny smirk on her face.

There’s only one answer that would ever make sense to the blonde. 

“My _son_ ,” Regina finally says. It’s barely a whisper.

Emma narrows her eyes momentarily. She knows it isn’t the full truth. Regina knows that Emma knows, but right now, it’s all she can offer. 

“You still have him,” Emma says quietly. “He might not see it that way right now, but you’re still with him. Here,” she raises her eyes, points at Regina’s chest without touching. Her heart. 

“Am I, though?” Regina doesn’t believe it. Doesn’t want to, because then there’s that treacherous hope again that lights an inner flame. Hope that will be crushed moments later. She’s experienced it too many times already.

“The moment we saw Archie walking through that door, he wanted to go to you. Until we learned about Cora. He’s just scared, Regina. That you’ll… I don’t know, relapse into your old behavior.”   
  
Regina scoffs, her heart squeezes painfully. Of course, because that’s what everyone thinks. Anger flares up and lashing out is the easy way. “You know what the funny thing is?” she snaps. “That everyone points at my mother for being the bad one. Whereas she’s the _only_ one who hasn’t hurt me yet, one way or the other.” 

“Not yet. You know your mother better than anyone, Regina,” Emma says, taking a step forward. “But I’ve seen her murder an entire town when I was in the Enchanted forest.”  
  
“I’ve done the same,” Regina murmurs. Because it’s true. She didn’t get her hands dirty herself but she did give the order, enraged by yet another escape of the slippery Snow White. In the end, when she saw the result of her impulsive order, she was horrified but it was already too late. Upon returning to her castle, she had isolated herself from everyone for two days, the smell of death and destruction, the stench of decay firmly lodged in her nose. It had been her final ascension, the final steps of fully embracing the title of Evil Queen. She can’t look at Emma’s face. 

“You are not your mother, Regina.” Emma raises her hand and reaches for Regina’s which is still curled around the door but Regina withdraws her hand quickly from the doorpost before there’s any contact. 

And the brunette remembers Rumplestiltskin words, saying that she and Cora were not the same at all, once. But when she’d gotten her magic back, Rumple had told her that now, now he could see how she and Cora were alike. At the time, she’d gasped, almost horrified by the comparison. Now, she can see how she’s driven herself over that edge out of desperate love for her child. 

_I don’t wanna be you,_ \- Henry’s voice rings in her head. He’s right. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t ever want to be like her. She’s a monster.

“Aren’t I?” Regina bitterly says, “It seems that evil runs in my family, does it not?” 

Emma sighs. There’s something impatient in her posture as she shifts her weight. “Look, Regina, you still have one foot in the past. Do you want to move forward, or not? I can offer my help but it is useless when you don’t want it. Just tell me, because I’m still here. I haven’t walked away.” 

“Why not?” Regina opens the door a little wider, a mix of frustration and curiosity raging inside her. This one keeps coming back for more. Keeps interfering with her mind. Stays where others have left her, time and again. “What do you see in me that you find worth coming back for? Why, after everything I’ve thrown at you? Why haven’t you walked away? Why do you keep investing your time in someone who’s… who’s broken,” she spits out, the self-loathing evident in her voice. “Some people can’t be fixed, not even by a _savior_.”

“You’re not. Broken, I mean,” Emma retorts immediately. There’s a conviction in her eyes that shakes Regina to her very core. “You’re just… bent. I admit I don’t know half of what’s happened to you and what your life’s been, but there’s good in you. I’ve seen it.”

“And why are you so sure? All we ever did was fight,” Regina scoffs, bitterness in her voice.  
  
“Henry,” is the simple answer. 

Well, that’s an answer she certainly hadn’t expected to hear. “How?” is the only thing she can say, and it makes Emma smile. 

“Henry’s a bright, curious, polite, interested boy and he couldn’t have been any of that if he wasn’t loved, growing up. You’ve raised a great kid, and he wouldn’t have turned out so great if it wasn't for you. You’re a good parent.” She smiles, her trademark lopsided smirk and Regina can only stare at her. “You’ve made wrong choices, I am not going to deny that, but with him, you made all the right ones. Even if he doesn’t see or appreciate it right now. I… had nothing to do with that. That’s all you.”

It’s a compliment. And she’ll be damned, but this recognition makes her heart flutter, if only just a little. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. She feels a little… lighter, perhaps. Warmer. It confuses her.

It is then that Regina realizes that despite these immense ups and downs, Emma always seems to be able to calm her nerves, level her emotions. She knows to say all the right things. Shocked, she realizes that Emma's becoming an anchor, someone to hold on to, like Henry and Archie were before her. She’s counting on Emma to ground her, as much as she wants to resist it. Emma is sincere, Regina can see it in her eyes. Or maybe it’s just something she _wants_ to see, something she’s latched on to. 

She is so, so confused. And the compliment makes her feel uneasy. “Thank you,” she murmurs, awkwardly accepting the compliment.

Then, there’s a shift in the air and Regina tenses, her face mercifully blanks once more, while looking over her shoulder inside her house. “Cora’s back,” she softly says. “You have to leave.” 

They both hear how Cora cheerfully calls for Regina. She sounds too happy, they both know it. 

Nothing ever good comes from a cheerful Cora.

“Be careful, Regina. Stay safe.” 

Regina meets Emma’s eyes and she nods. “I’ll… keep you informed.” 

Emma turns on her heels, just before Regina closes the door. She leans her head against it, not really sure what just happened. She had been so ready to write Emma Swan off, but now… the blonde keeps surprising her. There’s something genuine in Emma’s eyes, something Regina recognizes because she is the same.

Maybe Henry is right. Maybe Emma and herself share some similarities in the gray world she speaks of. And it’s strangely soothing that she’s not alone in it. If Emma’s right, if there is a chance that she’s not black but gray - it gives her a sliver of hope to hold on to in this sea of black versus white. The hope that not all is dark, that not all is forever lost. 

“Regina, sweetheart,” Cora calls for her in a sing-song voice, “We have somewhere to be.”

Speaking of black. She sighs and turns, moves to the study where the voice is coming from and freezes when she sees the object of Cora’s good nature. Cora has Johanna, a former servant of Snow White, sitting at her feet, immobilized. Her mother holds her gaze, a cold look in her eyes. Regina recognizes that look. She’s been on the receiving end of it many, many times. Cora holds up her hand and Regina instantly recognizes the pulsing red light of a heart. “Today’s the day, my darling,” Cora says, voice now low, “Today we’re going to retrieve the dagger.” 

She cannot show how her stomach’s dropping to the floor as her mother motions her to come closer and when she automatically does, Cora holds out the heart to her, to take. She raises her eyebrows lightly and Regina raises her hands to receive the heart. She stares at it. Brushes it gently with her thumb. She knows what it is what Cora's doing - a test of loyalty. After yesterday’s discovery that Emma and Regina were in contact, Cora wants to find out exactly how much influence Emma holds over her daughter. Plenty, especially after the last half-hour, but Regina can’t show her. Not when they still don’t know exactly what Cora wants, except that she wants to control the Dark One. But why? What’s behind it?

Because all her talk of killing the Charmings and Emma, it’s completely unnatural. It is very unlike Cora to be selfless - albeit in a twisted way. She’s not doing this purely to aid Regina. She wants to get something out of it herself, too, Regina’s convinced of it. She looks at the pulsing heart in her hands, her fingers slowly caress it. The feeling of holding it is more familiar than she’d like. As if nothing’s ever changed and years fall away.

 _She’s incapable of change_. Charming's words had been a slap in her face. Little does he know, she thinks while she suppresses a shiver running over her back. It’s so easy to slide back into the shadows. Because it’s far easier to hate yourself than to forgive yourself.

Johanna whimpers and cries, begging them to let her go, but there’s a ringing, deafening sound in Regina’s ears as Cora transports them to the clock’s tower, cloaking Johanna to hide her from prying eyes. 

Regina doesn’t know how Cora knows where she needs to be but when they materialize, she sees Snow and Charming and the dagger. Sees the smug face on Snow’s face as she directs her gaze at Regina. “I told you to pick your side carefully,” she says, up on that high horse as always, “Good has won, just as it always does.”

Regina wants to snarl. Snow’s always managed to rile her up with one single word. It’s easy to loathe her. But she doesn’t show anything. Instead, she looks at her nemesis with a blank face. 

Then, Cora smoothly takes the reins. Unveils Johanna. Regina sees the shock on Snow’s face when Regina reveals the heart she’s holding in her hands. Her body’s in turmoil. Every fiber in her body screams at her to stop, that despite the test of loyalty, she can’t kill, can’t give in to the darkness inside her, but Snow has caused her so much pain that she wants to return the favor so badly. Her own lust for revenge is an almost pavlovian reaction when it comes to Snow. Seeing Snow triggers Regina to no end. 

Black or gray. It’s almost funny how easily she slides towards black when she’s opposed to Snow and her patronizing white side.

Regina’s heart pounds in her ears, she barely hears either the words Snow’s speaking or Cora’s replies as she struggles to keep her thoughts in order. The words, their meaning sinks in only at Snow’s exclamation of “You killed my mother!” Regina turns to face Cora, shocked. But Cora doesn’t even flinch. If only, there’s a sense of cruel satisfaction on her face. “Why, why would you take her from me?” Snow tears up, pleads for answers.

“To make my daughter the queen,” Cora replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and at that point a lot of pieces of the puzzle fall in its place. Regina feels a thick lump in her throat and swallows it without Cora noticing.

Cora poisoned Queen Eva. Then, she made sure Regina would be in the right spot when Snow’s horse took off, right in time for Regina to rescue her. Cora sent her on her miserable path that eventually led her to become the evil queen. She stares at her mother, momentarily dumbfounded by the new information revealed to her, feels betrayed. Then, her eyes fly to Snow, who looks at her with her big, doe eyes, and Regina can’t take it. Can’t look at her mortal enemy, the one who’s started all of it with one broken promise, a revealed secret, which spiraled her into the darkness. She can’t stand the way Snow never takes responsibility for anything. How people always rally to her side. All while Regina apparently was as much as a victim to Cora’s cruelties as Snow’d been.

The realization of it all hits her in her chest and it makes it hard to breathe, but she’ll be damned if she shows it to the White princess and her deranged sidekick.

“Hand over the dagger,” she barks at Snow, projecting her mother’s betrayal onto Snow. But Snow, of course, being the hero she and that shepherd of her are, refuses, so she firmly squeezes Johanna’s heart. The woman cries and falters, falls to her knees while clutching her chest.

With every squeeze, she feels the warmth Emma gave her, the trust she freely gave her, the hope she so briefly felt, seeping away from her. She doesn’t deserve hope. There is no gray. Not for her. This is who she is even if circumstances led her to be like this. This path of darkness has been carefully crafted for her, has been personalized for her alone. She never stood a chance. And this darkness, it’s so familiar. This behavior comes to her almost naturally.

She knows what her mother expects of her. Knows what she has expected of herself for so long. Squeezing hearts, it’s what she does. Draining and taking lives. The darkness inside her cheers in delight has waited so long for this moment. Regina thinks of Emma, pictures the green eyes shining with warmth and hope. Her fingers tighten a little more around the heart in response, causing Johanna to whimper, wheeze. 

Snow is on her knees now, begging for Johanna’s life, throws the dagger to the floor and Regina blinks. The moment is gone. She gasps inaudibly, is repulsed by her own behavior and spiraling thoughts and quickly shoves the heart back into Johanna’s chest. There’s an apology on her lips, but it never comes out. Of course it doesn’t. Regina Mills does not apologize to peasants and definitely not to Snow White. Besides, her mother is also still standing there, observing her closely and Regina reminds herself that she’s still being tested.

“You have what you came for,” Snow says, voice quavering, just before Johanna is in Snow’s arms. Regina’s relieved that it’s over - 

And then it’s not.

Cora lifts her arms, says, “Not quite everything,” and magically shoves Johanna out of the clock tower's window. Regina instinctively raises her arms to protect her face against the shattering glass as the woman flies past her, her piercing scream ringing in her ears. She hides her shock quickly, feels her mother’s eyes on her when she turns to look out of the shattered window, sees the broken body of Snow’s servant lying on the pavement, and she resists the urge to recoil in disgust. Cora’s eyes burn a hole in her back and she straightens her shoulders.

“Well, there you go,” Regina says, as much to Snow as to herself, feeling the bile rise in her throat. “See where _good_ gets you?” And at that moment, where Snow looks up to her in agony, tears brimming in her eyes, Cora teleports them to Town Hall.

“Well done, my dear,” she coos, reaching over to Regina to squeeze her upper arm. “Now, wasn’t that _fun?_ Us working together and hurting Snow?” 

Regina doesn’t reply, and her mother doesn’t require an answer when she strides around Regina’s desk and sits in _her_ chair, placing the dagger on the desk in front of her. Regina stands in the middle of her office and looks at how her mother reverently touches the dagger.

She remembers the story that unfolded between Snow and Cora and even though she feels it’s all true and that she was nothing more than a pawn in her mother’s game, she needs to hear it from _her._ “You never told me about your history with Snow’s mother,” she says.

Cora waves it away with a dismissive gesture of her hand. “I spared you that burden like any good parent would do,” she says. Regina resists the urge to snort in disbelief. Good parents didn’t force their children to be married to kings trice their age. Good parents didn’t make the lives of their children miserable. 

Good parents didn’t kill innocents just to test their children.

“You didn’t think I deserved to know exactly what it took for me to become queen?” A murdered queen, a runaway horse. Leading to a position she’d never wanted. A dead fiance. Spiraling into a vindictive Evil Queen with a morose life at best.

“Now you know,” Cora simply answers. Her eyes quickly flick to Regina, and then back to the dagger.

Regina voices the suspicion she had in the clock tower. “That day at the stables, when I rescued her? That wasn’t an accident, was it?” She thinks about how her mother had sent her on an impromptu lesson. How eager she’d been to accept because it meant more time with Rocinante, more time with Daniel. 

More time for her mother to unfold her plans, to manipulate her, to trick her into a marriage she never wanted.

“And what does this knowledge change for you?” Cora inquires.

Nothing. Everything. It means that power is more important than the wellbeing of a child. Of two children - two girls, whose lives would forever change on that fateful day. 

“It means that you’ve won, mother,” Regina replies, face void of any emotion. She strides towards the desk, places her hands on the chairs and leans over. “I _am_ the queen. And if that’s what you wanted so badly, why do you need Rumplestiltskin’s dagger now?” 

There’s a couple of seconds of silence. Cora tilts her head, curiously studying her daughter.

“You’re worried my interests are no longer aligned with yours,” she says, almost invisibly narrowing her eyes and Regina knows she has to tread carefully now. 

“My only interest now is Henry,” Regina says with an even voice. She hears Snow’s voice in her head, saying _Cora doesn’t care about Henry_ . And Emma, saying _You’re a good parent._

“And I’ve told you, you’ll have him. Be patient, my love,” Cora purrs, “By the time Rumplestiltskin returns, Emma Swan and the rest of them will be nothing more than a vaguely unpleasant memory, and Henry will be yours.” Cora trails her fingers over the dagger and Regina, for the first time, feels repulsed by her mother. She was stupid, stupid to believe that reconciliation was ever in their cards. She’d wanted to have it all - her mother, Henry, a family.

She should’ve known that it will never be an option.

Villains never win.

“Well,” Regina says, tasting the bile in her throat, “They won’t try anything now. They have a handmaid to bury.” She smirks, carefully banning all coiling emotions from her eyes. She can’t show weakness, not to Cora. “I’m going to my vault. I’ll be back around dinnertime.” 

“Do you need me to come with?” Cora inquires, but Regina smiles and shakes her head. 

“No, you stay here. I’ll be back for dinner.” She straightens her back, turns on her heels and strides out of the office, head up high and shoulders squared just like her mother's taught her. When she leaves the office, she pulls her phone from her jacket’s pocket, sends Emma a message. _I’m sorry._

Regina Mills never apologizes, she reminds herself, thumb hovering over the send button. 

She sends it anyway.

Snow must’ve already told her, but she wants… she doesn’t know what she wants. Doesn’t want to be the bad guy, but in the end, she has proven that she rightfully is one. She can still feel the heart in her hand, the familiarity of her squeezing the life out of it. How natural it felt to curl her fingers around it and apply pressure.

Black versus gray. 

She can still see Johanna’s broken body on the pavement. 

Some of the faces of the people she tortured and killed haunt her every night. Regina is sure Johanna will join their ranks.

Did she make the right decision to aid her mother, win her trust, face the test? Or should she have stopped Cora as soon as Regina found out about her own history, about her plans? Should she have ever aided Cora in her hunt for the dagger? Would Regina have been able to stop her in the first place?

All these questions don’t matter. The point is that in the end, she did help her mother and it did feel good to hold the heart in her hand to hurt Snow White. Familiar. It was so, so easy to give in to the darkness. 

And it almost felt like coming home.

She’s more black than she’ll ever be gray.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, [kierrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierrass/pseuds/kierrass)!
> 
> _Who do I see?  
>  Mirror let me know  
> You can't know me in the way I do  
> Can you see how I feel? I look different every day  
> I appear in many ways_
> 
> _Mirror please  
>  Show my reflection  
> Free of doubt  
> The naked truth_
> 
> _It goes deeper  
>  Do you dare to know  
> What is hidden?  
> What's behind the superficial and external look  
> That no eyes will ever see_
> 
> \- After Forever, Free of Doubt

Regina teleports to her vault and the purple smoke hasn’t even completely evaporated before she retches. The bile rises up to her throat, making her gag, and she staggers towards the stairs. Her nostrils flare while she tries to heave in fresh air, claws her way up to the exit but she doesn’t make it and empties her stomach on the stairs leading to her father’s tomb. Her body convulses at the strength of it. She’s disgusted with herself, with her mother, with what just happened, with her own demise. 

She’s back to where she started, no matter what her intentions are, no matter what the savior thinks she sees in her. The only thing that matters are her actions and the way they made her feel.

And the shock of how easy it is to succumb to the life she knew.

When her stomach eases, she waves her arm to get rid of her stomach’s content. Staggers back towards the center of her vault. 

Her eyes find the mirror she broke the last time she came here to lick her wounds. With a wave of her hand, it’s restored. And then, she takes a good, long, hard look. She studies her features, shape of her face, her dark hair, neatly coiffed. Dark eyes, now red-rimmed with tears she desperately tries to hold in, lined with dark make-up that she feels familiar with. Her armor.

She stares at the Evil Queen. 

For so long she’s just seen this superficial, exterior look of hate and revenge. It’s been so long since she has looked past it, that she’s been  _ able  _ to look past it. She’s built layer over layer, built walls on walls to protect herself until her heart and mind became a fortress that sometimes even she can’t access. 

Henry, he pulled some of them down. But not enough. Never enough.

And then, Emma came.

_ What do you want?  _ The blonde’s voice lingers in her mind, an unwanted visitor at dark times. Unbeknownst to her at the time, the question forced her to look past the Evil Queen and that’s had consequences, these last few hours. It made her question herself. It exposed memories, wants, needs of long gone, buried deep inside her mind. 

It made her feel more than just the anger, the wish for vengeance, the guilt she’s felt ever since Henry ate the poisoned turnover.

Henry.

Henry will never forgive her after he hears what’s happened in the clock tower. She chokes out an angry sob. He’s what she was doing it all for. Trying to be better. But maybe she has to face that she never will. Because both she and her surroundings are making it impossible to try. She constantly feels at war with herself and external factors.

Her own response to Snow, every time she sees her, swallows her whole. Regina just can’t move past the self-righteous woman who’s always so full of herself, who destroyed Regina’s life and she still falls into the rabbit hole of revenge every time they cross paths. Add Cora to the mix, who, with her manipulative ways can still control her and she’s drowning in a sea of darkness. How the hell did she ever believe she could figure out what Cora was up to without being hurt in the process? Without hurting others in the process? She always gets hurt when Cora’s involved. She was a fool to believe that this time, she could have the upper hand. 

She couldn't. And now Cora has what she wants. The dagger. And as soon as Rumple returns, she’ll control him. A shiver of disgust runs over her back.

_ What do you want?  _ She scoffs at her own reflection. It doesn’t matter what she wants. Love and happiness aren’t in her cards. They probably never were, never will. Because the darkness, it’s too tempting. It still feels so good to give in, so easy, too. She realizes how little it will take to drown in it entirely.

She shakes her head. When was the last time she was free of doubt about herself? The last time she was truly happy with who she was? Because Snow’s misery and the thirst for revenge might’ve been what she had pursued for so long, but had it ever, truly made her happy?

She remembers Daniel. His easy smiles, the way he made her feel free. She wonders what he’d tell her if he could see her like this - and immediately wished that she didn’t. Her eyes wander over the mirror. Wander over her own mirrored features. Daniel would’ve hated what she’d done to herself.

And then, when she squints her eyes at her reflection, when she curls up her own lip in disgust, she remembers Cupid’s arrow. A long, golden arrow that would’ve enabled her to find true love. Her father, always the peacekeeper even at times Regina had long given up on the world and herself, had wanted that for her. But Regina, consumed with vengeance, filled with contempt for Snow White, just couldn’t let go at the time. She wanted what was rightfully hers - Snow’s head on a stick. The rest of her feelings were locked away, compartmentalized in her head. So she cursed Cupid’s arrow to find the person she hated the most and she was convinced it would lead her right to Snow. Tears spring to her eyes when she recalls how eagerly she’d followed it, how delighted she was that her curse worked, until it had started to guide them to their own home. And finally, the horror upon realizing that the person she hated most wasn’t Snow.

It was herself.

It still is, she understands when she eyes herself in the mirror.    
  
There it is, the naked truth, under all of these layers she’s so carefully constructed. Hate. She inhales a shaky breath as she stares at her reflection. She sees and feels a deep loathing for herself a hate that is lodged into her very soul, an overly familiar feeling, rooted in events that culminated from the moment that Daniel died, rooted in events that aided in her becoming the Evil Queen. Storybrooke and its 28 years of dull repetition had made her blissfully forget, but today’s events have ripped off band-aids that covered the festering wounds for so very, very long.

Without Cora, she never would have become the person she is now. But it wasn’t all Cora. When she first spiraled into her vengeful frenzy, well, that was entirely on herself. She has made choices that are irrevocable and she will never, ever be able to fully come to terms with them. 

She can try this forgiveness arch as much as she wants but the fact is, she doesn’t deserve it. Whatever Emma tells her - she’s not bent. Regina is broken. A broken woman. She broke a long, long time ago. Even before she walked down the aisle to marry a king three times her age, panicked, begging her mother, Snow, guards to let her go, even before she realized fully what kind of life lay ahead of her. 

Every event in her life led her here, drew her further into the darkness, spiraled her into the rabbit hole of revenge until there was no way back anymore. She detests what she has become. She’s not gray, she never was. She’s pitch black. 

An angry sob escapes from her throat as she turns away from her own reflection in disgust. Her knees give way and she sinks to the floor. She grits her teeth, doesn’t want to cry, needs to compose herself. Can’t show weakness. She wraps her arms around herself and grabs her own upper arms, fingers digging in deep. She feels how the magic sparks from her fingers. It burns her own flesh but she welcomes the pain because it’s always better than the hurt in her heart and her soul. 

And doesn’t she deserve the pain, anyway? Self-contempt consumes her as she digs her fingers in deeper, extracting a whimper of pain. Her eyes water and she automatically shakes her head. These tears are not going to fall. She clenches her teeth. Feels the vein in her forehead throb almost painfully as she forces her tears back.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes. Regina inhales sharply, startled. The sound pulls her from her whirling thoughts, pulls her back to the real world. She abruptly releases herself and fishes it out of her pocket.

Emma. 

She scoffs. Of course it is.   
  
Regina stares at the display until the call goes to voicemail. Seconds later, it starts again. She doesn’t pick up. Instead, she breathes deeply in and out, and remembers that she’d sent Emma a text message just before she got here. She doesn’t know whatever she can add to those words. Dreads what Emma might want to say to her.

Because pitch black or not, she still has feelings. And she fears that those feelings can shatter her, even more when someone pokes her the wrong way, leading her further on a path of destruction and worse. Especially in her current, vulnerable state. 

Regina hates being vulnerable.

But when the phone starts buzzing for the third time, her morbid curiosity wins it from her agony and she accepts the call on speakerphone. 

“Regina?”

Regina opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She shifts her weight a little, wraps her arms around her knees, and rests her head on them while staring at the lit screen of the phone next to her.

“Regina, talk to me. Snow told me what happened.” Emma sounds distressed. And she  _ should  _ be distressed. A friend of her mom’s just died. Regina inhales shakily, closes her eyes for a second but when the memories of Johanna being hurled outside the clock tower invades her mind she quickly blinks, breath shaky.

“I know you’re there,” Emma continues. “I can hear you breathe. Regina, it… what happened was terrible. Johanna was a good person.” There it is, there is the accusation. Regina steels herself, unwraps one of her hands, a finger hovering over the phone to end the call. But, she internally scoffs at herself, since she likes to torture herself, she doesn’t. She simply waits.

Because listening to Emma gives her a reprieve from the vortex of her own dark, bitter thoughts, if only for a little while. 

“I told you before, I’m here for you to talk to. Cry to. Whatever you need.” 

Regina remembers. Chokes on her breath. And for the love of God, she can’t figure out  _ why _ Emma’s still talking to her. If nothing else, Emma’s persistent. It’s in her fucking  _ genetics _ , she almost snorts. She doesn’t deserve someone who anchors her as Emma can. 

Because Emma doesn’t know who she really is. Doesn’t know how much she - because as much as she would like to personify the darkness within her as someone else, it’s still  _ her _ \- enjoyed parts of the ordeal in the clock tower. 

“It must’ve been horrible,” Emma offers, her voice kind.   
  
“You know  _ nothing, _ ” Regina barks suddenly. “Nothing at all about what it was like, what it  _ felt  _ like.” 

“Then  _ tell me,” _ Emma immediately returns. “Talk to me, Regina.” A hint of relief lines her voice, happy that Regina’s finally broken the eerie silence. 

“Why?” Regina snaps, “Why would I? Why did you call? What do you  _ want  _ from me?”

“I told you before, I want nothing from you. I called because I thought you might need a friend right now.” The vehement tone of Emma’s voice in combination with her words stun Regina into silence. She can’t say anything while her mind tries to wrap around the  _ friend _ word.

“You… thought we were friends?” Her voice is thick with mistrust. Disbelief. 

“I hoped we could be,” Emma tentatively replies. “I’d like to.”

Regina can’t figure out for the love of God why Emma would ever want to be her friend. And her first response is to drive her away. It’s like Regina needs to prove to herself that Emma won’t deliver. That she’ll be on her own again soon once Emma realizes who she really is. What she’s done. Everyone always goes away, and Emma will do the same. And Regina can’t even blame her. 

And in the end, it’s easier to drive people away so at least you expect them not to return, then to be surprised and hurt when they eventually leave on their own accord. 

“Cora tested me,” Regina replies darkly, “She had me squeeze the life out of Johanna’s heart. And God, Emma, it felt  _ good _ . So easy, so familiar. The darkness, the dark magic felt like an old friend who I hadn’t seen in years, the kind that you meet up with after all that time and it feels like all the years between you fall away.” And she is disgusted with herself for the way she welcomed it. 

“So, what are you saying, Regina? You’re evil again and crossed over to the dark side?” She can picture how Emma furrows her brow.

“I  _ am _ the dark side, Emma! I’ll never be light because of it!” Regina snaps to the phone. “This darkness, it’s a part of me. My magic is intertwined in my every being - heart, mind, emotions. It’s been cultivated since I was young, grew exponentially over the years until it’s all that I am. Storybrooke has just suppressed it below the surface, but Cora knew exactly how to pull the darkness out again. And I let it happen.” Regina feels like a caged animal, sees through a purple haze, feels the magic rush to her veins. It tickles her, under her skin. She lifts her hand in frustration. “And now, Johanna is dead.” Her voice nearly breaks.

“You didn’t kill her.” 

“No, I didn’t. But I very well could have.”

“But you didn’t,” Emma insists, “because you had no reason to.”

“Not this time. But the next time, I might as well.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Frustration rises in Regina. She should have known that Emma wouldn’t run away so easily. The damn Savior is always up for a challenge. But Emma with her unwavering belief doesn’t understand. Has never felt how the darkness can consume a person. “You don’t  _ listen _ , Emma. As much as you want to believe in it, in  _ me _ , you can’t save me. You never could. Do you want to be friends? Then maybe start by staying away, if only for your own safety.”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Emma vehemently counters. “Maybe I don’t know who you were, back in the Enchanted Forest. Maybe I don’t understand your darkness, per se. But I do know that you’re far from evil, Regina. And I believe that you have changed so much already. You’re just unable to see it for yourself. Have a little, I don’t know, faith in yourself.”

“You know nothing,” Regina says again, repeating her very first share in this conversation, but the fight has left her. Emma doesn’t know, indeed. And maybe Regina doesn’t  _ want _ her to know. “Just… keep Henry safe,” she mutters, her voice breaking. And then, she ends the call.

Earlier, before the clock tower, she’s allowed Emma to give her a sliver of hope. Hope that maybe there was something bright in her future. A light at the end of the dark tunnel she was going through. But that hope was shredded to pieces a little while later. Now, she feels numb. It would have been better never to have that hope in the first place. You can’t miss what you never had. Now, it hurts even more.

She buries her head in her hands. Nothing ever comes easy. Except, apparently, a Savior dogging her. Emma, who thought they were friends. Or that they could be. She stares at her phone as it rings again. 

Regina scoffs. Emma never gives up, she’s a true Charming. And that family hasn’t given her anything but trouble and headaches. She rejects the call and turns her phone off.

_ I thought you might need a friend. _

Regina doesn’t even know what having a friend  _ means.  _ The only people that stuck around were her conniving mother, her father out of a sense of duty, the Huntsman because she kept his heart, and the genie in the mirror because she cursed him there. Friends? She never had one after Daniel.

Her head pounds as she teleports back to the mansion, and tells her mother that she’s got a headache before retiring to her bedroom. She doesn’t even bother to undress, just crawls underneath the duvet, squeezes her eyes shut.

But the events of the day are quickly rushing back to her. Haunt her, mock her.

It takes a long time before the exhaustion finally catches up with her and she falls asleep.

~*~

The next morning, Regina’s antsy. She needs air. And even though the wind is biting cold, especially near the sea, she sets course to the docks. She allows the wind to slam into her as she teleports over, not wanting to run into people on her way there, and after pacing up and down frantically for a little while to get rid of some excess energy, she settles on her favorite bench. She leans forward a little, lets her elbows rest on her knees, hands folded together. The sea has always managed to calm her nerves. There’s just something in the crashing waves, always regenerating themselves, that is hypnotizing. Soothing. 

“I knew you’d be here.”

Breath catches in her throat and her eyes widen. She’s almost surprised her neck doesn’t snap when she turns her head quickly to see what her mind already knows.

“Henry,” she breathes, frozen to her spot. What on earth is he doing here?

“You always go to the docks when you feel bad.” He shrugs but eyes her a bit warily. “I guess… that’s a good thing right now, right? That you feel bad? Because it means you’re sorry?” Hope shines in his eyes.

She just blinks at him, fears that if she says something he’ll disappear. Her hands itch to reach out for him. But the thought of him disappearing makes her frown. “You’re not my mother, are you?” she says, narrowing her eyes.

Henry’s forehead creases. “That’s weird,” he says, head slightly tilted while rolling his eyes, and she sighs in relief. She’s not sure she could’ve taken Cora impersonating Henry a second time. She’d wanted Henry in her arms so badly that time, it had felt so real - and then it wasn’t. It’s only now she realizes how it’s affected her. Now that the real Henry stands before him. And he keeps his distance.

He should.

“I feel bad about many things, Henry,” she says after a few seconds, her eyes never leaving his face, scared that he’ll vanish if she looks away. 

“I heard Ma calling you, yesterday. I know what happened at the clock tower. They always send me upstairs but I always listen.” His brown-green eyes skim over her face, as if he’s looking for something to hold on to. “She said you didn’t kill her. Grandma’s friend.”

Her heart stills when she remembers thundering on about the darkness inside her, about how good it felt to let it out. Hopes to God that Emma didn’t have her on speakerphone. “What did you hear, exactly?” she carefully inquires.

‘She told you that you’re not evil and that you changed but you don’t believe it. Is that true?”

Regina leans back against the bench and sighs deeply. She momentarily closes her eyes. “It’s what Emma believes,” she says vaguely. But he is not easily fooled. How would he be, being the son of the Savior and the Evil Queen? Nature versus nurture. He’s a product of them both.

"I want to believe that you’re not evil anymore too.” 

Regina sighs as his words sink in. It means he right now still sees her as such. How can he not, when all she did was to make him feel left out, make him feel like he was crazy? And how can he believe in her when she doesn’t even believe in herself? She sighs, but he continues, “I want you to believe that as well.”

“Henry,” Regina starts, mildly exasperated, automatically shaking her head. He believes it to be so, so easy. His young mind is still only seeing black and white. Good and evil. One can either be one or the other.

“Because I think I’ve figured it out,” he stubbornly continues, “You’re working with Ma, aren’t you? To make up for the things you did?” His eyes shimmer as she swallows a gasp. “You know, to get the Dark One’s dagger back? You’re like a secret spy because nobody else knows?”

She blinks at the sudden change of the subject and is too late hiding her shock. “I-”

“I knew it!” His fist pumps the air in enthusiasm. “I want in. And we’re going to need a super-secret operation code name.”

Wait, what just happened? She blinks confused at her bouncing son in front of her. “Henry,” she tries again, but he’s closed the distance between them until nothing more than a space the size of an arm's length separates them, and it takes everything inside her not to reach out and reel him in, to give him a bone-crushing hug. Her fingers tingle with the need to touch him as she drinks in his enthusiasm, the wind tousling his long hair, his bright gaze. God, she loves him. Her heart aches.

“You’re just, like, infiltrating in Cora’s party to gather information for Good, aren’t you? That’s so clever.”

Henry’s like a whirlwind of good intentions and his heart, the heart of the truest believer, beats strong and bright. And she can’t take that away from him - it will, when Cora gets what she wants. She needs to stop him, end his enthusiasm for her… penance, as he put it. Not only doesn’t she deserve it, but it’s also too dangerous. She doesn’t want to involve him in any of this. 

“Henry, stop it. This is not going to be one of your operations,” she suddenly snaps. Henry’s startled and takes a step back. It hurts like hell, to push him away, but it’s necessary to create distance. She needs him away from her. For the first time since the Charmings took Henry, she realizes how she’s safer with them than he’s with her. Especially after what happened yesterday. And the realization alone makes something in her chest contract. “Cora is dangerous, Henry. And- and so am I. You need to stay away from me.” 

“I won’t,” he stubbornly says and it makes her huff impatiently. “And you’re not. And I want to help. I can give you information, too,” he adds hastily, almost desperate. “Like, my dad and Mister Gold? They’re coming back. I overheard mom talking to Gramps.”

“What? Why?” Her good intentions fly out the window with this new piece of information. Her brow furrows in worry.

“Dad called, right after Ma called you, yesterday,” he swiftly continues, happy he has gotten her attention and he doesn’t want to lose it. “I couldn’t understand all of it but Hook found them,” Henry says, face pulled in a frown while he tries to get his details straight. “In, in New York. He’s… attacked him and now Mister Gold is hurt because he stabbed him with some kind of poison. So Dad is taking Mister Gold back here to find a cure. Hey, did you know Mister Gold is also my grandpa?”

“Yes, Henry, I was... made aware,” she murmurs absentmindedly while she quickly tries to process the information at hand, while she feels the building dread inside her. If Rumple returns, Cora will control him.

A tiny voice in the back of her head questions whether it’s a bad thing. Henry’s here, right? She can keep him safe. He’s the only one she needs. What does it matter if Cora has Rumple murder everyone else upon his imminent return?

She looks up at her son, who’s anxiously bouncing from one foot to the other, curiously awaiting her response, somewhat satisfied that he was able to tell her something that she didn’t know yet. 

And she realizes that it matters because Henry would never, ever forgive her if she would just stand by and watch while his entire family was wiped out. 

Hope and family were perhaps never in their cards, Regina sighs, lamenting, while accepting that particular fate. It never is for a villain like her. She looks at him, then closes her eyes to mask the pain and makes a decision before she urgently starts, “Henry, he can’t come back to Storybrooke. You have to tell Emma.”   
  
“He’ll die if they don’t,” he counters, just as forceful. 

“ _ Your family _ will if he does,” she snaps. “Cora will  _ murder  _ them.” She’s arguing with her son in a way they didn’t before. He needs him to realize that they’re all in danger when Rumple returns.

There’s a pause. “No they won’t.  _ She  _ won’t,” Henry replies then, a fierce conviction, an unwavering belief shining in his eyes. She’s seen it before, in Emma’s. Like birthmother, like son apparently. “Because you’ll be there to stop Cora. You’re like, a super-secret spy right now. And you’re on  _ our side. _ ” He sounds so convinced and beams at her, so full of trust that Regina closes her eyes for a moment. She remembers how he used his lego miniatures to play and copy the storylines of his superhero comic books. Good always won, naturally. But even though he religiously believes in good always being able to conquer evil, it doesn’t make it true - evil can do so much harm, and she should know. She invoked so much hurt, inflicted so much pain in her villainous past.

And yet she can’t shatter his undying belief for the selfish reason that she simply feels better because he  _ does _ believe in her - even if she doesn’t. It’s a foreign feeling, but she wants to revel in it for just a little bit longer. After all, this is the only person in the world that matters. And she loves the feeling that right now, she also matters to  _ him _ .

Love is weakness, she remembers. A mantra that’s stuck into the very core of her being, placed there and cultivated by her mother. He, he is her weakness. She’d do anything to keep him safe. 

Which is why her mind returns to her previous point - she needs to keep him away from her. “I need you to leave.”

Hurt flashes over his face.” Why?”

“You can’t come anywhere near me. You have to stay away from me.”

He frowns. Deeper than before. “You don’t  _ want  _ me?” 

Oh, this is hard. And it’s also not true. He’s everything she ever wanted, needed. She chokes out a sob while his face scrunches up. Dear, dear boy. For a second, she thinks about lying to him. Saying, no, I don’t want you anymore. Go back to your real mom. No matter how it would tear her apart, how it would shatter her very soul.

But she can’t.  _ No more lying _ , she had told him. He hates lying. He hates being lied to. It’s what evil does. Her heart aches painfully when she remembers all the times she lied to him. It feels like another life.

“You are the most important in the entire world to me, Henry,” she whispers, “but you can’t be near me. You might believe that I can stand up to my mother but there are so many factors... I need you to understand that I might… have to do things that you can’t understand.”

“But-” he protests, but she interrupts him.   
  
“No, sweetheart. Go back to Emma.” 

The endearment comes so naturally to her that she only realizes what she’s said when she sees his eyes widen. She sighs. Sees the struggle within her child. He wants to say more. Do more. And she needs to stop him. “Now, Henry,” she says, adamant, “Please.” 

He takes a few steps back, eyes never leaving her face until he turns and runs off.

Away from her.

It hurts in all different kinds of ways. Her fingers curl into fists, her nails dig into the palm of her hand as her throat screws tightly and her eyes sting with unshed tears. She can’t believe that she’s letting him go - it would've been so easy to keep him. To bring him somewhere safe where no one could touch him. But even if she would have seriously considered it only a few months ago, she can’t. He wouldn’t let her, anyway. 

This was the right thing to do. She knows because doing the right thing always leaves her miserable and alone.

But she clings to the fact that he’s sought her out. That he took the time and effort to find her, talk to her. Babysteps, maybe. But at least it’s  _ something. _

She stays at the docks for a long time, before she returns to the mansion. She turns on her phone, sees a couple of missed calls and a few messages about Rumple’s return - Emma’s of course, she's the only one who contacts her - and replies that Rumple should stay away. 

Before Emma can reply, she shuts it off again. 

Talking to one Charming was enough for today - God, it even stings when she thinks of Henry being one of them.   
  


~*~

“Regina? Regina!” 

Cora sounds distressed. Regina frowns. She’s slept relatively all right despite the circumstances but as always, she’s awake before down. Cora needs even less sleep, Regina knows. 

“Regina!”

Regina can’t help but roll her eyes as she makes her way downstairs. She needs coffee to function, but can’t make it to the kitchen - Cora shows up from the study, dagger in her hands, motioning her inside. “We have a problem,” Cora calls out to her the next day. 

“What’s that?” Regina enters her study and leans against the desk, folds her arms in front of her chest. 

“Rumple is dying. His name has started to fade from the blade.” 

There’s a frantic tone in Cora’s voice. Something wild shines in her eyes when she looks at Regina before she returns her gaze to the dagger she holds firmly in her hands. Regina comes closer, eyes the dagger herself to see if it’s true. They see how the letters on the knife have started to disappear. “He’s really dying,” Cora mutters. 

She raises her head to meet Regina’s eyes. “When his name disappears, all of that power of his will just… boil off into the air and…” She lets her eyes wander the room as she lets the words sink in, “then there’ll be no new Dark One. ”

Is that really such a bad thing? Regina is hesitant to ask. Decides against it. “So,” she says, carefully, “Is there something we can do?”

“Not we. Me.”

Regina sees the determination in her mother’s voice. “There are no other options,” her mother says, holding Regina’s gaze and Regina suppresses a shiver. “I have to stab him with this knife,” Cora continues, reverently lifting the dagger in her hands, “and take his powers as my own.” She solemnly raises her head - If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Regina would’ve thought it was almost comical. “I have to become the Dark One. And with his power, there’s nothing I won’t be able to do.” 

Regina’s eyes widen, her mouth falls open, she shakes her head barely visible. Her heart sinks. No, no no. This isn’t what she wants. “Henry, he’s never going to forgive that,” Regina replies sternly, stepping forward with a frown on her face. She needs to give her mother a chance to back out. “And what we wanted is to get him back. The whole point of this is…” She stops at an arm's length’s distance when her mother locks her eyes with hers and tilts her head, eyes narrowed. The cold conviction in them makes her freeze in her tracks, narrows her eyes back at her mother. “Wait, what is the point of all this?” 

“To protect our family,” Cora says, but her voice is a little lower than before. The expression on her face shows that she can’t understand why Regina asks the question in the first place.

“Or you gaining your power,” Regina replies darkly. She hasn’t forgotten her mother’s betrayal. Her hand in how life has come to pass.

“Whatever power I gain is for  _ us _ ,” Cora smoothly adds, “To protect us. To protect Henry.” 

Snow’s voice rings in Regina’s ears.  _ She doesn’t care about Henry. _ She needs to suppress a shiver while Cora continues.

“If we lose this battle, we’ll spend the rest of our short lives on our knees in front of them. And that, my love, is something I’ll never do.” Cora’s eyes narrow, shadows of a memory lie within their dark brown depths, and she turns to stride away, dagger firmly in her hand. 

Regina staggers back until her legs reach the desk. Her fingers curl around her desk, squeezing it firmly until her fingers hurt. 

Cora is a very, very powerful witch. With the additional powers of the Dark One, she’ll be unstoppable. And no matter what she says, the Dark One’s powers are highly unpredictable. The darkness only cares about itself, to survive. Whatever Regina’s done in the past will be nothing but a ripple in the storming ocean once her mother achieves the powers of the dagger.

Regina has to keep Rumple out of Storybrooke. 

She shoves her hand in her pocket, fingers curl around her phone before she yanks it out. Emma needs to know. It’s still turned off from yesterday, and she silently urges it to hurry up. Briefly, she lifts her head to stare out the window. The morning dawns as early slivers of sunlight try to peek through the thick clouds decorating the sky. It's going to be a beautiful day, wheater-wise. 

Dread settles in her stomach as her heart starts to pound. Averting her eyes from the window, she gazes at her screen - it's almost there.

But before she can unlock her screen, Cora returns. There’s a lightness in her step that wasn’t present when she left the room. “The dagger sings,” Cora says, satisfied. “It calls to his master.”

Regina’s heart sinks as Cora sighs, a content smile lining her mouth.

“Rumple’s home.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warnings: Character death, graphic violence

_ “Rumple’s home.” _

Regina carefully puts her phone away as her mother continues. “We need to find him as soon as we can. And knowing him, he’ll probably go directly to his shop. His survival instincts are strong,” Cora muses, her eyes going over the dagger, her fingers softly caressing the edges. “He’s going to try and find something to heal himself, no matter what the costs. We need to stop him before he does.”

“Mother-”

“And you’re going to help me.”

Cora turns to her, eyes a couple of shades darker than they normally are. Regina freezes, feels how cold blood pulses in her temples, spreading sparks of panic through her body. There’s something in Cora’s eyes that she recognizes. A fierce determination to get what she wants. Her stomach drops.

“I-” 

“I don’t know what games you play, daughter, but believe me. This is all for your best interest, too.” It’s always been like this. The road to Regina’s downfall has always been paved with Cora’s best intentions, her  _ best interest _ . Regina wants to protest. That it’s not. “Mother-”

  
“Now.” Cora transports both of them to Gold’s shop and Regina blinks a little nauseous by the sudden teleportation, staggering slightly as she tries to keep her balance. When the purple smoke evaporates, Cora has already lifted her hands to test the protection spell put up in place. It makes the store shudder - white magic against dark. The protection is a strong one, Regina feels. And Emma’s magical signature is embedded within. She’s surprised as well as amazed.

And she realizes that it’s not going to hold. “Mother, please reconsider,” Regina must try to talk her mother out of it. “This darkness, it’s all-consuming. You won’t… be you, anymore What about us being together? What about… about reconciliation?” she tries.

Cora smiles coldly at her, eyes nearly black and Regina chills to her very core. “I’ll be exactly who I need to be,” she darkly replies. She touches Regina’s arm and immediately feels how Cora draws strength -magic - from her, or maybe Regina’s volunteering it, maybe she’s still trying to get into her mother’s good graces, and Cora creates a fireball from their combined magic that smashes the protection spell into pieces, slamming the door open. The store bell chimes, the sound eerily cheerful in these dire circumstances. Cora gives Regina a stern look that fills Regina with dread and they enter the shop together.

Regina takes a second to take the scene. The two idiots are there, then a man she doesn’t know - must be Gold’s son - and Emma on the left, swords in their hand. “Regina,” Emma says, holding her gaze, “think about what you’re doing.” It sounds like a warning and Regina’s strangely offended by it. She realizes what it must look like. Her and her mother against the others. But after  _ I thought you might need a friend  _ it feels like betrayal - even if Regina told Emma to stay away after. So much for a tentative friendship that probably never existed in the first place. It means that she was right. It hadn’t taken a lot for Emma to back away. Her upper lip curls up in anger.   
  
“ _ Don’t _ talk to me,” Regina replies with a snap, masking the hurt with anger. And then, everything becomes a blur. Cora is the first to throw a fireball at Emma. But David, stupidly heroic as always, steps in front and blocks it with his sword and when he steps into Regina’s personal space and the move causes Regina to instinctively defend herself from his sword - and the pleasure of releasing some pent-up frustration on him is not lost to her when she magically lifts and shoves him out of the store after which she slams the door shut. It’s even satisfying to hear his body hit the pavement with a loud  _ thud _ .

“David,” Emma cries out, stepping forward but Cora sends her flying backwards and she crashes into a cupboard, remains still for a second. Despite her hurt, Regina’s heart skips a beat in horror, but Emma stirs and gets up to her feet again. Regina wants to lunge forward but gets sidestepped by Gold’s son, who grabs her with an unexpected movement and instantly presses a sword to her throat. Regina gasps, the urge to fight courses through her body. Her fingers spark with magic and her first instinct is to have him  _ burn.  _ This is Henry’s  _ father _ , another one standing in the way of herself and her son. It would be too easy to fry him right at the spot. But…  _ Henry.  _ She tries to wriggle out, causing the man to tighten his grip and press the sword tighter to her skin.

Meanwhile, Cora teleports to the other side of the room to get to Emma but loses the dagger in the process. and when she reappears in Emma’s vicinity, she staggers lightly. The dagger clatters on the floor, a loud noise even in their fight, and all of their movements still.

And then everyone eyes the dagger at the floor. 

Neal’s eyes shoot from the dagger to Cora, tightening his grip around Regina even more and his grip hurts, but she’ll be damned before she shows him. “What’s it gonna be?” he asks Cora, pressing the sword harder against Regina’s throat.

“Mother,” Regina cries out, wanting to pull herself loose. It results in more pressure on her neck - Regina feels how the sword cuts her flesh, feels how a single drop of blood trails towards her chest. Cora’s eyes flash from Neal to the dagger, tilts her head to Regina. 

“Choose wisely,” Neal adds and Regina knows, she  _ knows _ what Cora’s going to pick a split second before it happens. No, she wants to scream as Cora lifts her hand and magically reels in the dagger. 

Before she knows what happens, Neal shoves her hard against Cora and it sends them both flying over the display, shattering its glass as she falls on the ground behind it. She’s momentarily dazed, but Cora pulls her up. She vaguely hears Emma ordering Neal to fall back when her own hand touches her throat while registering that Emma puts up a new protection spell for the back room. The wound stings, isn’t deep, but when she pulls back her hands she sees blood on her fingers. 

They both look at it and there’s a new rage in Cora’s eyes. “Help me take out Rumplestiltskin and then we’ll go back-”   
  
And  Cora grabs her chest. She staggers. 

“Mother? What is it?” Regina grabs Cora’s arm to steady her when her mother sways. Despite everything, despite what she wants to do here - murder Rumple, become the Dark One - Cora’s still her mother. And when her mother hurts, so does Regina. Cora’s her blood.  _ Family. _ No matter how twisted and dark she is.    
  
It’s the only family she  _ has. _

“It’s… It’s my heart,” Cora says, almost surprised. “It’s with my things in your vault. Someone’s there.” She gasps. Winces again. 

“Mother?!” 

“Go. Go!” 

And Regina complies, runs out of the store immediately. Her mind frantically goes over the possibilities - who’s in her vault? Who has her mother's heart? It’s not Emma, but who, then? Henry, she thinks briefly, her son who wanted to help, but he could never, ever - could he? Oh god, she hopes not. Her son should not be anywhere near the dark magic in her vault - it had almost cost him his life the first time he was there.

She runs, lifts her arms and teleports towards her vault, rushes inside and then nearly crashes into Snow, who’s holding a box in her hand. Her mouth forms a surprised “oh” as she sees Regina.

How in the hell?! “You have no right to be here,” Regina hisses darkly. Of all people, this one is the last she ever wants near her possessions - or her mother. “And you have no right to  _ that,”  _ she points to the box in Snow’s hands. Eyes ablaze, she steps closer to Snow.

Her nemesis looks at her with a blank face. “I was going to give it to you.” 

Regina frowns, a little taken aback. “What?”   
  
“She can’t love you, you know. She doesn’t have her heart. With it, maybe she can.” Snow looks at her, earnestly. “That’s why you’ve never felt she loved you. She doesn’t have her heart.” The woman has the audacity to smile. 

Regina searches Snow’s face for… something. Dishonesty. Her brow furrows even more. “You’re doing this for me?” She can hardly believe it. “When have you ever done something for me?” Bitterness drips from her tone. Wary, her eyes wander from the chest where the glowing heart pulses softly, to the face she’s come to loathe just a little less than her own.

“It’s not all for you. It’s for all of us,” Snow admits. “But Regina, think about it,” Snow says hurriedly. “What would happen if Cora had her heart back? Back inside her?” There’s an urging tone in her voice. As if she wants Regina to understand. 

“She took it out to protect herself,” Regina snaps, taking a step forward, causing Snow to instinctively take a step back and clutching the box to her chest.

“And did it work? The person she was before, do you think that person survived?” Snow immediately retorts and shakes her head. “She can’t love without a heart, so she can’t love  _ you.” _

Regina can’t hear these words. Not from  _ her. _

Because she knows they are true. In fact, she’s more or less come to the same understanding, ever since their previous encounter in the clock tower. Cora’s only in it for her own gain. “She does,” Regina vehemently denies, “She does love me. She’s always…” Her voice breaks as Snow shakes her head. She’s almost pitying her, Regina sees and it makes the frustration inside her flare up. 

“Imagine real love,” Snow whispers heartfelt, and there’s this beaming smile on her face, the hope that’s always there when she speaks about love, hope, forever, unicorns and rainbow kisses, everything that Regina had always loathed. “You’d have a mother and a start of making a family Henry could be a part of.” Regina swallows thickly as Snow’s eyes break contact with her, her gaze falling to the chest in her hands. “Or, you could have her be the Dark One.” She holds out the box with Cora’s heart and offers it to Regina. “The choice is yours.” 

Snow speaks the right words. Hope, family, it’s what she wants but never, ever voiced. Not even to Emma. But she yearns for it. She longs for peace. Love. Would this truly be the answer? Did they figure out a way to turn Cora around, to make her… human again? 

After everything her mother’s done, to both her and her surroundings, would this be a chance to truly reconcile? Regina’s breath catches in her throat. Maybe with Cora’s heart inside her body, she can. Maybe she then really does have a mother who cares. Who loves. Who might feel as deeply as Regina does. God, she never knew she longed for it but she does now.

Emma, she must be behind this. 

Emma must have found a third way. She always tries to do that. _ Cora does nothing but to help herself. But she is also my mother _ , Regina told Emma before and she’d acknowledged it. She must be because Snow with all her hope speeches and big doe-like eyes would never have thought of any of this herself. She’s too  _ good _ for that. She would never be able to concoct a plan that would sway Cora from evil to… gray. Not to good, to gray.  _ I think we both know there’s a lot of gray in between. Because that’s where we both live.  _ Emma does. And it warms Regina’s dark heart.

That is what makes Regina hold out her lightly shaking hands, and she takes the box from Snow’s, shifts her gaze from the object she’s now holding to Snow’s eyes. Something flashes in them and Regina can’t place it, but it doesn’t matter. “Thank you,” she says to Snow, the first sincere, heartfelt words to the younger woman since she learned that the girl had broken her secret so many, many years ago.

Then, she turns, lifts her free arm to cloud herself in her signature purple smoke and evaporates into thin air.

She teleports herself back to Gold’s shop, heart lighter than it has in years. This, this must be hope. This must be what it feels like to believe that everything will work out. That maybe, just maybe, she  _ can _ have it all. A mother. Her son. Friends. Family. She’s not naive, she knows the path will be long and hard, but she’ll have Henry and her mother. And Emma. Archie. They’ll help her. They’ll help each other. 

She moves into the back room, where she sees her mother standing next to Gold, dagger raised, ready to deliver the deadly blow and she can’t let that happen, she can’t let another life be taken, she can’t have her mother succumb to even more darkness and she moves fast. Grabs the heart from the wooden box. Shoves it into her mother’s chest and hears Cora’s gasp of surprise. Regina steps aside, brow furrowed but filled with anticipation, sees how her mother swirls towards her with one hand clutching her chest and then... 

Right there, in front of her, her mother meets her eyes. Her face splits into a wide smile. A genuine smile, not one filled with vile, sarcasm, or darkness. No, this smile is filled with love that Regina’s never seen before. It softens Cora’s features, making her radiant. 

It makes her beautiful. 

Regina’s breath quavers and she feels it. She feels her mother’s love, so deep within and she laughs. Laughs like she hasn’t done in years, in half of her life. Tears of joy spring into her eyes. “Mother,” she says, smiling with a tremor in her voice. Her vision is blurry but she sees Cora smiling wider than she’s ever done. This. This is what she needed to make Cora see. This is what gives them both the second chance they need. 

This is what Snow meant when she asked her to imagine  _ real love. _ Regina’s heart feels full, so full at this very moment. It flutters in her chest and she feels so much lighter as if a heavy burden is lifted from her shoulders. It’s unlike anything-

Cora clutches her chest again. The smile fades. A frown appears on her face, is replaced by a deep agony. Pain flashes over Cora’s features. Regina’s brow furrows, wonders what the hell is happening, but then Cora falls forward as a wound becomes visible in her chest. Regina is horrified. She catches her mother before Cora hits the floor. “Mother? Oh! Mother?!” She gasps, as Cora’s breath becomes shallower. “What’s wrong?” Cora’s breath is labored . Her eyes focus and unfocus as she tries to hold Regina’s face. No, this can’t be. This can’t be happening. Hot white panic flashes through her like a lightning bolt.

“This…” Cora forces herself to say, face ashen, brow filling up with cold sweat, fingers reaching up to grasp Regina’s blouse, tears forming in her eyes as she frantically tries to hold on to her daughter, “This would’ve been enough.” She chokes on her breath, tears leaking from her eyes, rolling over her cheeks. “You… would’ve been enough.” Her voice breaks, her eyes flutter close and she slowly goes limp.

“Mother?” Regina laments and she lightly shakes Cor, feels the presence next to her, and sees Gold standing up. “What’s going on?” she cries out, her own eyes now brimming with impotent tears, but he doesn’t answer and she focuses on her mother again. 

“Mother?” Regina sobs now, tears running freely, “don’t leave me,  _ please. _ ” She cries, chokes on her own breath, and pulls her mother close, sob-whispers, “What am I going to do?” She laments, sinks into her grief, despair consumes her.

“Your mother did you no favors,” Gold tells her, towering over her, and she scowls at him, tears streaking her face. 

“Shut up!” she spits out, distraught, face crumpled in anger and grief simultaneously. “You stole her life,” she wails, “You.. cast some spell.” Her voice breaks.

“I did nothing,” he says in his half-whispering voice. 

And then, when she stares at her mother’s face in disbelief, realization dawns. She knows, even before Snow and her shepherd barge into the store, crying out to stop. She looks from Cora, her mother on the brink of redemption before dying, to Snow, the instigator, the one who sweet-talked her into unknowingly murdering her own mother. 

Everything inside Regina comes to a halt. “You did this,” she hisses at her arch nemesis, venom dripping from her words. She feels the darkness coil inside her and she lets it, she’s not going to try and stop it. Not this time. They killed her  _ mother _ . Even worse, they did it after all these sugarcoated talks of redemption and second chances. It feels as if something dies inside her.

She raises her hands. clouds herself in her teleportation spell and reappears in her vault, still clutching her mother’s body close. There, in the safe vicinity of everything she holds dear, she allows herself to weep for the chances she should have had, the chances that were promised to her, but which are now lost forever.

~*~

The more time passes, the more infuriated Regina becomes. She smashed her phone to pieces after five calls from Emma - that lying, conniving bitch who conspired with her nemesis to kill her mother. She should never have placed an ounce of trust in her. What did it get her? Nothing. Because that’s all that she ever gets these days. 

Bitterly, she thinks that there are not going to be any repercussions for Snow’s actions. Not long ago, they had wanted to hold her accountable for a murder she didn’t commit. Now that Snow killed someone, nothing happens. Apparently, when you’re  _ good,  _ you can get away with anything. Snow is above all wrongdoing. The entire fucking Charming clan is.

She paces up and down her office. She buried her mother  _ yesterday _ , has barely slept, doesn’t have more tears to spill, and bitter darkness settles over her.

She welcomes it. Embraces it. Her mother is dead. Revenge rages inside her, devours her whole. The towering rage accompanies her all the time now, while she tries to figure out a way to destroy Snow and her family. Wipe out the heroes once and for all - God, she should have  _ aided _ her mother instead of trying to talk her out of it. They would have  _ deserved  _ it. They are going to pay for what they’ve done. 

And she knows just the way.

Before she had cast the curse, she had built in a failsafe. Because back then, she didn’t know what was going to happen exactly. Nobody had ever cast the Dark Curse before and she needed a way out if it didn’t turn out the way she’d planned it to. So she’d created a trigger, designed to wipe the magical creation off the map. 

And she knows exactly where it is. She teleports over to the library, where a shocked Belle yelps before Regina lifts her hand and stuns her. She doesn’t want to spend her time dealing with inferior simpletons, especially not when they have any bonds with the Charming clan. 

Regina comes to a halt before the elevator. Before magic, it used to be a two-man job. And not just because of the elevator’s mechanic, but also because of who was waiting downstairs. One of the people she might have called a friend, long ago, now vanquished by the Savior. 

She grits her teeth. Mal had died for Henry. 

Everything’s for Henry. 

She lifts her hand, makes a circular movement and the door starts to unlock, gears are clicking and the heavy doors open. She smirks, a little satisfied in the process. The elevator awaits and she gets in. Then, she makes the same movement she did seconds ago, and the metal doors shut with a loud clanking sound and the elevator starts to move, taking them below the surface. 

The elevator whirs down. It takes them longer than Regina remembers but it might be because she’s impatient. But then, the elevator slows down and the door opens again, while the metal frame rises up. 

Regina steps out. She takes a few seconds to take in her surroundings. The air is damp. The cave’s walls are wet. They’re below sea level here, but the vast ocean does its very best to creep in. With a wave of her hand, she holds a torch, eerily lighting the enormous vast, dark cave in front of her. It's quiet, safe for an echo of steady drops, falling into a pool of water. The quiet, hollow cave amplifies the sound.

She hasn’t been here in forever. First because of Maleficent. After that, there hadn’t been any reason to come here, her trigger safely hidden, even from her mother. 

Her heart squeezes painfully, takes her breath away. It always does when she thinks about the final moments they had. The way Cora had looked at her.  _ This would’ve been enough. _ And then, it was all ripped from her in a few, shuddering gasps. She grits her teeth, forces her grief back, behind the anger. She only allows herself to feel the rage for Snow and her deranged family.

Her anger sets her to motion. She stalks forward to the glass chest in which Snow White slept, once upon a time. It’s been the perfect hiding place for the one thing that can destroy the curse, destroy Storybrooke. In one movement, she breaks the glass. She can’t see inside, but her fingers dance over the dust on the bottom of the chest, until her fingers curl around the object she’s been looking for. A smirk of satisfaction lines her lips, and she carefully withdraws her hand. 

Bringing the torch closer to her retracting hand, she eyes the dark crystal into the light of the flickering flame. A dark chuckle escapes her throat as her thumb lightly brushes over it. The crystal is near black, shaped in a perfect diamond shape. So small. So powerful. She takes a moment to study the object, before she puts it away safely. That’s part one of her plan. Now, the only thing she needs is a way to open a portal, to get both her and Henry to safety when the trigger gets activated.

She goes back up in the elevator and sees the still stunned Belle. She rolls her eyes, waves to lift the spell, and vanishes in a thick cloud of purple smoke. And once home, she sets herself to the task to find a way to open a portal.

The portal proves trickier than she thought. With Jefferson’s hat gone and no magic beans in this land, she needs to open a portal herself. She spends hours on end in her spellbooks for a curse that is powerful enough to open one.

The absence of a solution frustrates her but the purpose, the need for revenge spurs her forward. She hardly takes a break. Sometimes, she finds herself waking up, head on her books, not remembering when the exhaustion took over. But the fury inside her makes her go on, so she frantically rushes through the pages of all the books and ancient scrolls that she has. She’s getting somewhere, she has a faint idea. It’s not as eloquent or simple as a magic bean, but it’ll do. It’ll open-

_ Thump thump thump. _

Her head jerks up into the direction of the hallway. Someone knocks on her door. She curls up her lip in anger when she pushes her chair away from the desk, causing it to fall over, and she makes her way to the door. Who the hell has the audacity to disturb her? She grabs the doorknob and yanks the door open.

“You,” she snarls - and of course it is. The worst of them all. But perhaps that’s because she’s the genes of her nemeses combined. 

“Regina, I’ve tried to call you,” Emma says, worry in her voice. She’s standing there, hands limply hanging to her sides, wearing that despicable red jacket. And is there… concern on her face?  _ Worry _ ? She narrows her eyes. “I wanted to… I don’t know. Give you time. Tell you I’m sorry.”

How  _ dare _ she? Regina feels the impotent fury rise from the pit of her stomach. 

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Regina snarls, gritting her teeth, not wanting to hear any sorry excuse of an apology. “You don’t get to say that you’re  _ sorry. _ You  _ caused  _ this. You talked me into this. It’s your  _ fault. _ ” 

Surprise flashes over Emma’s face. “What? No, I didn’t!” the blonde protests, raising her hands in defense. “I had nothing to do with Cora’s death. She teleported me out-”    
  
“You gave me  _ hope,”  _ the brunette roars, a hint of despair in her voice which only infuriates her further, “You told me I had a  _ chance _ . And your mother fueled it. You  _ both  _ gave me the idea that I could get a second chance, for me, for  _ her, _ and then you  _ killed _ her.” Regina’s chest heaves heavily, she tries to get the oxygen inside though a suffocating lump in her throat. Her fingers stretch and curl into fists, sparks of purple magic escape her grasp as her insides coil, her stomach tightens. She wants to lash out. A purple haze sways in her eyes - she can see it. It colors her vision.

Yes, her mother was toxic. Sick and twisted, but still her mother. Up to the moment in Gold’s shop, there had still been a part of Regina hoping that she could be the one to mellow Cora so that they could have something similar to a mother-daughter bond. 

And she had had that bond. For just a couple of seconds. That brief moment just before Cora collapsed, right there and then - it was their chance of happiness. A family. A moment in which Regina believed she  _ could  _ have had it all. Her mother, Henry, some… peace of mind. Residency in Storybrooke. A way out of loathing herself.

Snow took it away from her. That wretched  _ family _ took it away. Her skin sings with the magic that crawls underneath, which bubbles up to her nerve endings, waiting for the opportunity to come out. Flares up when her emotional levels spike even more, ever so connected.

_ I’m not going to help you murder her _ . Her own words suddenly ring in her head when her magic gets the best of her. In the end, knowingly or not, that’s  _ exactly _ what she did. Lust for revenge and determination to hurt Snow and her family where it hurts the most concealed her guilt, but when Emma looks at her, tells her  _ I’m sorry _ , it surfaces readily. Self-hate devours her now she’s killed not one, but both her parents. The towering hate for both herself and the ones that forced her into this position is all-consuming. And desperately, she releases her magic on the only one who has the fucking audacity to seek her out, says sorry and then, denies her involvement. With a flick of her wrist, Regina sends Emma flying through the air. A surprised yelp escapes her before the blonde lands on the pavement with an almost satisfying crash but Emma wouldn’t be Emma if she quickly gets on her feet again. 

Good. Regina counted on it. She takes a few steps forward, out of her house, and strides towards Emma, who doesn’t retreat but she raises her hands in a gesture that’s supposed to calm her. No such chance. “Regina, listen to me, I’d never -” 

“You took  _ everything _ from me,” Regina barks, hurt evident in her voice, red-rimmed eyes glaring at her. Emma’s denial of her own involvement enrages her even more. Regina lifts her hands in a gesture that is almost the same as breathing and she shoves the blonde backward, has her flying through the air until Emma crashes hard into one of the mansion’s pillars. Her head hits the marble with an almost sickening thud before Emma falls to the floor.

“No.” Emma winces, having landed hard on her back, but she scrambles up and comes closer again. Red is coloring her blond hair. Blood. Thick and sticky. 

“You used me to kill my own mother,” Regina wheezes. A red haze clouds her vision. She lifts her arm, fingers curled. Emma’s eyes widen when her feet lift from the ground, gurgling sounds erupt from her throat as Regina magically tightens her hold on her windpipe. The darkness inside her roars, searches for revenge for her mother. She tightens her fingers, causing Emma to grasp at her own neck, frantically gasping for air. Her eyes start to bulge. “R-Regina,” she brings out with a half cough, only making Regina hold on her even tighter, squeezing the life out of her. - “if this… makes you…. feel…  _ better-” _

“Mom? Mom, please stop, let her go!” 

A scared child’s voice tears the thick air and Regina swirls around, the purple haze dissipating immediately from her eyes. Henry, he’s standing behind her, fear in his eyes, hands raised. “Mom,  _ please _ ,” he says and she sees how he’s resisting the urge to rush past her, towards Emma who’s still hanging in the air. “Please let her go.” 

_ Henry.  _ Regina doesn’t even hesitate before she withdraws her hand and hears a thump where Emma lands.  _ What are you doing here _ , she wants to ask, but she knows - he probably overheard Emma going to see her and decided to follow. Because that’s what he  _ does _ .

He called her  _ mom  _ for the first time in weeks. 

Her heart sinks. Because now, he only has eyes for his birth mother. As soon as Regina retracts her hand to release Emma, Henry flies past her and her heart aches even harder than it already did.

Her heart yearns for him, yearns to hold him. His is the only comfort she needs but she knows she will never have it, she never will after he’s seen her like this. She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold. Chilled to the bone now the fight’s leaving her rapidly. Sure, she’s still mad. She still wants revenge. But an added horror of her son having to see what she’s become wraps a cold hand around her battered heart. Her child saw her in a way he never should have. 

It hurts like hell. Regina feels the familiar sting of helpless tears behind her eyes, the feeling of loss firmly embedded into her chest. She needs to get away from their prying eyes. She strides towards Emma who’s laying half on her porch - Henry’s now squatting next to her, trying to help while the blonde is still heaving in oxygen, rubbing her throat. “Regina-”

“You don’t get to speak,” Regina hisses and to her horror, the image of Emma and Henry together fills her eyes with tears, leaves her voice trembling. The pent-up frustration seeks a way out. “I did this for Henry.” Her eyes fly to the boy, who stares back at her and her heart breaks a hundred times more as she sees the fright, the accusations he doesn’t voice, but which are there. She knows him long enough, has suffered his rejection long enough to read him. And she’s not able to deal with it right now so she moves towards the front door, steps inside the house. But just before she slams the door shut, she hears another tentative, “Mom?”

Her motions still. She hesitates between slamming the door and waiting - of course she’s waiting. She can never deny her child anything. Her shoulders slump slightly. She keeps the door open, if only a tiny little bit.

“Mom, it’s not Emma’s fault. She wanted to  _ help. _ Mary Margaret, grandma… she made a  _ mistake _ .”

Regina didn’t know that she could feel even worse, more rejected. Leave it to a child to simplify killing someone into it just being a mistake. This was premeditated murder. The way Regina had had Leopold murdered. Regina never was granted the same courtesy. 

She wants to close the door, doesn’t want him to see her  _ weakness _ as a nauseous feeling spreads through her body. She swallows back a sob. 

“I don’t want you to fight Emma. You’re still my mom. And I know there’s good in you,” Henry says urgently, taking a tentative step forward. “You were helping, remember?” His eyes are hopeful as if he desperately needs to believe that there’s something inside Regina that’s worth redeeming.

“Oh, Henry,” Regina says, a slight tremor in her voice. She opens the door slightly so she’s able to bend over in order to see eye to eye with her son. Registering the wariness, her heart drops a little further and bitterness rises in her throat. “What’s the point? My mother is dead because I  _ helped _ and I’ll always be a villain. Nothing’s ever going to change that. Villains… we never get the chance to a happy ending.” She makes a vague gesture towards Emma, who’s touching the back of her head while getting up. She feels the blonde wary eyes on her and lifts her own to meet Emma’s. “Apparently, villains don’t get a chance of anything without being  _ murdered.”  _ She glares at Emma over Henry’s head.

“Mom, you-”

“You can choke me or throw me into walls all you want, but Regina, I’m not giving up on you.” Emma interrupts Henry, her voice hoarse as if it hurts to speak and she lifts her hand to touch her throat. Regina scoffs. Almost slams the door shut anyway. 

And yet she doesn’t, morbidly curious as to what more Emma has to say. The blonde scrapes her throat and winces, before she continues. “I swear I had no idea what Mary Margaret was up to, but you're right, in the end, it probably is my fault.” Those words alone are enough to rekindle the flame of Regina’s anger. She raises, straightens her shoulders, eyes flickering with fury upon the admittance. 

“After we figured out that Cora was the one who killed - or fake-killed - Archie, I should’ve told Mary Margaret that you were trying to figure out what Cora was up to. I didn’t, because we both know that Snow doesn’t have a star record at keeping secrets. Maybe if I should have, she wouldn’t have  _ used  _ you to such extremes. Because we  _ always _ find another way.”

Regina clenches her teeth at Emma's recognition of Snow using her to… get rid of her mother in the most horrible way. A muscle in her jaw tightens and she feels how her brow furrows. Another way. “Not this time,” she brings out, trying desperately to hold her posture in front of her son and the woman behind him.

Emma holds her gaze. “Not this time,” she acknowledges softly, a sadness in her eyes, the remorse evident in her voice, “And I’m sorry. I promised you I’d help, and I let you down. That’s all on me.”

Regina hates it. Hates the genuine apology in Emma’s eyes because it deviates the direction of her hurt - from the world to herself, once more. The dark tendrils of her magic want to claw upwards, want to hurt, maim, but the sincere apology and her son’s presence refrain her from doing so - to them, at least. The darkness latches onto her own heart once more, makes her way upward to her throat, her head - it consumes her. She is rooted to her spot, body slightly quivering with tension. Her heart slams into her chest, pounds in her ears - it’s deafening while the hurt inside reaches her head - great, she’s developing a migraine. Her breathing accelerates, becomes shallower. She closes her eyes momentarily, feels how the dread, the guilt wash over her. “Leave,” she breathes, barely audible.

Henry stands in between them, looks from the one to the other, eyeing them both in suspicion. “You’re both my moms. I don’t want you to fight or, or, to kill each other,” he says, eyes focused on Regina. He takes a step back, wraps an arm around Emma’s waist and right now, with the loneliness Regina feels, it hurts more than ever. He might speak of moms, but he shows her exactly where he wants to be. And it’s not with her. And why should he be, lisps a voice inside her head. You nearly killed the mother he  _ does _ love. 

Her heart squeezes painfully and she gasps, unable to hide it from the pair in front. Henry, he’s mercifully oblivious to his adoptive mother’s pain. He doesn’t see the hurt on her face, doesn’t know about her inner turmoil and how she’s beating herself up over it. It’s her own fault. Henry at the docks, just a few days ago, is completely different from this one. Because he saw what she is really capable of. He saw what she can’t and sometimes doesn’t want to control. 

She nods at him in reply. The only promise she can give him, because her voice is failing her.

She looks up, darkness lining her peripheral view. Forces the hurt behind a blank mask before meeting Emma’s eyes, but Emma doesn’t miss it. Regina sees how the blonde’s brow furrows in recognition and she can’t look at it, turns away her eyes in response. 

“I promise,” Emma says, eyes flicking to Henry, “Kid, go to Granny’s. I’ll meet you there in a few.” 

“But-”   
  
“Don’t argue. Go.” He’s being dismissed and he doesn’t like it at all. His face pulls into a frown and he’s ready to argue.

“Ma -”   
  
“Go,” both Emma and Regina tell him at the same time and Henry looks surprised. He hadn’t expected them to agree on anything. 

“Um. Okay. I’ll see you later. And remember, no killing.” He gives them a stern Henry-look before he reluctantly retreats. Regina’s eyes follow him, sees him kicking a stone ahead of him, slowly making his way to the end of the street until he’s out of sight. She wheezes. It kills her to have him so close, yet so far away. She never even had the chance to hug him. She wants to touch him, hug him, tell him she loves him and she couldn’t do any of that.

She remembers the last hug they shared. After she absorbed the curse at the well that allowed Emma and Snow to return from the enchanted forest. They were in Gold’s shop, Snow woke David from his eternal sleep and she remembers having to turn her head when their sickening love-exchanges almost made her throw up. But then Henry came up to her.  _ I was right, you really have changed _ , and enveloped her into a tight hug she hadn’t received since long, since even long before Emma Swan ever set foot in Storybrooke and she’d accepted it with a surprised gasp, tears blurring her vision.  _ Thank you _ , he said, eyes shimmering, a sincere  _ See you later  _ when they left for Granny’s, to which she of course wasn’t invited.

What she’s always denied for the truth now hits her in the chest, creating more dark spots in her vision. He’s not hers anymore. Darkness drove him away from her.  _ She  _ is the one who drove him away with her lies, deception - means to try to keep him hers forever. But she knows that he doesn't want to be near her. He can’t even get himself to touch her.

She staggers backward as if she’s received a slap in her face, a sob stuck in her throat. Wants to slam the door shut but she’s too late - Emma follows her in and closes the door behind her to hide them both from prying eyes. 

Regina gasps, unable to suppress her emotions. She doesn’t  _ want _ Emma here, especially now the self-loathe hits her where it hurts her the most, now the guilt washes over her in enormous waves. Her fingers tingle and she desperately whirls around while she curls her hands into fists. Her despair makes her lunge towards the only other person present and she rams her fists into Emma’s chest.

Emma yelps, recoils momentarily before stepping within reach again, now bracing herself against the physical attack. “Fight back. Damn you, fight back!” Regina spits at her, fists raining on Emma’s chest. 

She tries to drive back the self-loathing with anger directed towards Emma, and she shoves Emma backward against the door. But the blonde doesn’t retaliate and Regina just doesn’t understand, wants her to fight back, wants Emma to punish her. “Hit me!” she commands the blonde, fury radiating from her body. That’s what she wants. She wants someone to hurt her as much as she hurts others. She deserves it and she wants to draw it from Emma, the only one available. 

The only one who's probably capable of hurting her where she feels it the most.

But Emma steps forwards and raises her arms, seems to brace herself against another fist in her stomach and Regina cries out in anger before Emma firmly wraps her arms around Regina and Regina can’t move anymore - the warmth of Emma’s body heating up her own, her arms trapped between their bodies and an angry sob escapes Regina’s lips. Tears spring into her eyes. “Hit me,” she chokes out with a broken voice, “Hurt me, dammit.” 

“I’m so sorry, Regina,” Emma says instead, arms firmly wrapped around her with a voice still hoarse from almost being strangled and then, tears blur Regina’s vision and leak from her eyes one by one - she’s horrified with her own display of weakness but there’s nothing she can do to stop either tears or her sobs.

Regina weakly tries to struggle out of Emma’s grasp but it only results in her losing her balance and she sinks to her knees, pulling Emma, who’s still wrapped her arms firmly around her, with her to the marble floor of her mansion’s hallway. She doesn’t feel the cold from the floor, can’t hear the softly muttered words because her ears are ringing loudly and she only feels the arms that embrace her when she half-heartedly pushes her hands towards Emma’s shoulder one last time. 

And then, the dam breaks and she gives up resisting. Her body shakes uncontrollably when the tears roll over her cheeks, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, guilt, hate and loathing. Her fingers curl around the lapels of Emma’s jacket as she pushes her eyes into Emma’s shoulder - guilt piles up when she sees the red specks of blood in Emma’s blonde hair, making her feel even worse. She cries, and cries, for everything and everyone she has lost in these past few days and long before. 

Her mother, Henry, herself, Daniel. She’s alone again, like she was right after the curse broke and even long before that. Only this time, it hurts more than ever because the self-disgust is more prominent than ever before.

But she's not alone.

Emma holds her, whispers to her, words that Regina doesn’t understand because of her own sobs, her own heart pounding in her ears that quells all sounds to a monotone murmur. And when after god knows how long the sobs subside just a little, she wonders why. Why is Emma still here,  _ why _ because it would have been easier to leave Regina to it, to her anger and pain. But she didn’t. Instead, she’s here, and she has comforting arms wrapped around her quaking body.

Regina hasn’t had anyone to comfort her in a very long time. For god’s sake, she’s  _ hurt _ Emma and she’s softly stroking her back - hands up and down in a comforting motion and why, why,  _ why. _

Regina abruptly pulls her head back, her blurred eyes seek out Emma’s bright green gaze, holding it for almost three seconds. Sees the compassion, the sympathy that she never really wanted. And then impulsively, she surges forward, pressing her lips firmly against Emma’s while tightening her grip on Emma’s jacket before slipping one arm around Emma’s neck to keep her in place. She wants to  _ feel _ . It doesn’t matter what. She’s desperate enough to feel  _ anything  _ but the hurt inside. Claws her hands into Emma's shoulders to pull her even closer.

Emma gasps in surprise, opens her mouth in the process and Regina jumps to the opportunity, lets her tongue slip into Emma’s mouth and a soft sound escapes her throat as Emma sighs and starts to return the kiss. Her tongue curls around Regina’s, drawing a soft whine from Regina’s throat. Emma’s arms lose a bit of their strength when her arms settle on Regina’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her side. Regina’s fingers slip up to Emma’s face, curling around her cheeks, holding her in place. There is nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s rough, desperate, messy, full of despair, frustration, anger, loneliness - it’s a cry for help and leaves no room for anything more than that. They both know it. Emma grabs Regina’s shoulders and Regina faintly expects her to push her away, except she doesn’t, just firmly holds her as the kiss grows deeper, starts to border on despair, both not willing to give it up, to end it Both needing as much as the other can give

Emma withdraws only when she’s out of breath, tears herself away from Regina’s lips the moment one of Regina’s hands trails over Emma’s back, slips under her jacket. “Regina,” she pants heavily, “we can’t.” 

“And why the hell not?” Regina brings out, half choking on her own breath which is still slightly wavering, her fingers traveling over Emma’s back, up to her shoulders. Emma shivers, and it makes Regina almost purr contently. Whatever this is, it’s pushed the dread, the revenge, the hurt away. And she doesn’t want it to stop. She doesn’t want it to end. Emma makes her feel so much at this very moment, things she doesn’t really understand but she really wants to figure out what it all means. She can’t let go, not just yet. Her arms slip up again, find the blond unruly curls and Regina wants to pull Emma's lips back to her own, until her fingers suddenly get a bit… sticky. And Emma hisses.   
  
Regina quickly withdraws her hand and is almost surprised she sees blood.

“Well, that’s one reason,” Emma says, carefully lifting her hand to the back of her head to inspect the damage. “I need to clean that up.” There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t worry. Head wounds always look worse than they actually are. It’s fine.” 

Regina recoils immediately, releasing Emma and scrambling away from her. It’s beyond her that Emma simply waves away what Regina did to her not long before, and when her common sense takes over again, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She thought she couldn’t sink any lower but apparently, she thought too highly of herself, Regina bitterly scolds herself.

“Regina,” Emma says while she rises to her feet and takes a tentative step forward. Regina raises her hands to make her stop, sees how Emma flinches just a little bit - Emma’s  _ scared  _ of her. The way her self-loathe blast into her chest with full force makes her dizzy, makes her vulnerable. And vulnerability, as it always does, makes her lash out.

“I told you,” Regina snarls, self-hate and embarrassment evident in her voice, “You should’ve stayed away. I’m dangerous. I can’t be atoned.” 

“I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care what you believe. Leave me alone,” Regina snaps.

“Regina-”   
  
“Go away, Swan, before I remove you from my premises.” Regina turns her face away from her because she doesn’t want Emma to see how vulnerable she is. How weak. She’s embarrassed enough as it is already. 

She waits for the blonde to leave, but Emma hesitates. “I’ll go,” she says. “You need time, I get it. But know that I’m not walking away from you forever. I’m not giving up on you.”    
  
Regina doesn’t indicate that she’s heard the fiercely spoken words. She can’t. And when Emma finally gets up and leaves, it’s with a certain reluctance in her step that Regina doesn’t want to acknowledge. 

The door closes with a definitive ‘click’.

And with it, the house feels emptier than it ever has been. She sighs. Leans her forehead against her knees. Fool, she scolds herself. She can’t even remember clearly what drove her to kiss Emma in the first place. And she’s not even going to think about what it meant that Emma returned the kiss. In the end, she tells herself she’s just been alone for too long and that she needed to feel..  _ something _ else than her anger. She softly bumps her forehead against her knees, angry with herself. 

It’s an overly familiar feeling. 


	6. Chapter 6

She doesn’t know how long she sits there in the hallway but suddenly, there’s a soft knock on her door. It’s not Emma’s knock. Emma’s is firmer. Bolder. It radiates confidence. Regina stares at the door. Henry, maybe? Could he have returned? Breath catches in her throat in anticipation and she quickly gets up. She throws a look in the mirror - her hair is messed up, her make-up is streaked by the many tears that have run down her face. She cringes at the memory of crying and Emma and - that _kiss_ she doesn’t want to think about anymore and pulls a face at her reflection, raises her hands, and magically fixes her face. Gone are the puffy eyes. Gone is the weariness in her features.

Madame Mayor is back. It’s the perfect mask for whoever she has to face.

Heels click on the marble floor when she makes her way to the door, not sure what to expect but with a little anxiety, she opens it - and it’s beyond her wildest imaginations. Her brow furrows immediately as a tight knot forms in her stomach. But before she can speak, _she_ does.

“Kill me,” Snow whispers, tears brimming in her eyes. 

Snow. The one who tricked her into killing her mother. The one that is supposed to be good. Who gets away with it because she’s good. It’s a fine line.

Regina stares at her, the familiar surge of revenge coursing through her veins. But she hesitates. Doesn’t trust the woman in front of her. Why Snow is offering her an easy way out, an easy kill, is beyond her and there _must_ be something behind it. She scoffs. “What?” 

Snow’s breath hitches. “Regina, we’ve been fighting for so long and it’s cost us so much. It has to end before someone else dies. So… please. Just do it.” A tear rolls over her cheek. 

It’s tempting. It will only take one extended hand. One plunge in Snow’s chest. Fingers wrapping around the pulsing organ and squeeze, squeeze, _squeeze_ until there’s nothing left but dust. Until Snow falters and dies on this very porch. 

And Regina is surprised by her own hesitation.

Regina can’t help but stare. Wary of Snow’s intent. Her eyes flick through the surroundings while she tries to see if somewhere, Charming’s waiting. Or the blue pest, maybe, trying to ambush her. _You’re incapable of change._ She wouldn’t be surprised if they’re waiting for her to prove it. Tricking her yet another time. Nothing surprises her anymore these days.

The thought riles her up and Regina’s eyes settle on Snow again, her upper lip curled in disgust. First, she accuses Regina of murder. Then Snow actually cold-heartedly plots Cora’s murder, makes Regina kill her own mother, and now she wants to do the right thing by sacrificing herself, by becoming a martyr? 

A smirk trails around Regina’s lips. Because hell, does Snow’s impending martyrship really matter if she can finally, _finally_ have her revenge - the one she’s been seeking for so long? It doesn’t matter that she’s Emma’s mother. That she’s Henry’s - 

She halts her train of thought. 

“Henry would never forgive me,” she says, almost quietly, and Snow shakes her head in despair. But Regina is only human. And this is like putting the fox in the henhouse, telling him to leave the chicken alone. An impossible task. “But do you know what my problem is?” She locks eyes with the woman before her, her mouth twisting in a vicious smirk. “I never learn from my mistakes.” 

Her hand shoots out, plunges into Snow White’s chest and the younger woman gasps and groans as Regina’s fingers curl around the organ. Snow staggers, whimpers, cries when Regina forcefully yanks the heart out of her body. 

Finally. _Finally._ A feeling of victory comes over her. After all these years. She stares at the organ in wonder, ignores the whimpering woman in front of her.

It would be so easy to squeeze the life out of it at this very moment. To tighten her fingers and crush it to dust. Her body hums in content. This is too easy. She brings the heart to her face, studies it for a second. The bright red is pulsing but - there’s something else inside.   
  
First, she frowns. Narrowed eyes focus on the dark little fleck inside the bright, beaming red. And when Regina realizes what it is, her mouth curves into a surprised, small smile. “Huh,” she says, looking closer, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” Snow pants, and Regina is delighted that she asks. She turns the heart for Snow to see.   
  
“Do you see that?” She points at the faint, black spot in the middle of the once so pure heart and carefully watches Snow’s reaction. She is not disappointed. 

“What did you do to it?” The accusation comes swift, but this time, Regina doesn’t balk. She smiles, slightly shaking her head.

“Oh, I didn’t do that.” It feels like justice. If nobody will hold Snow accountable, apparently… _something_ does. Call it fate, maybe. It gives her a strange satisfaction. “ _You_ did. You darkened yourself. And when you darken your heart it only grows darker. And darker. Trust me, I know,” she says darkly.

“So crush it,” Snow hisses, her red-rimmed eyes puffy from crying, “Do it.” There’s despair in her eyes that Regina recognizes immediately - she’s felt the same desperation moments ago. Snow feels awful - no. She feels awful about who she's become by deceiving Regina.

Snow hates herself for succumbing to the darkness, Regina realizes, because she is the epitome of good. When Snow falters, when she darkens herself, maybe good falters with her. Snow mourns her own downfall. She isn’t even sorry for _Regina_. She only cares for herself. About her image. Her self-worth.

And the content feeling Regina felt only seconds before is easily replaced by aggravation and she curls up her lip in disgust. It leads her to an easy decision. A decision that seems to give her back some control. She feels empowered. Fate has a funny way of showing itself, Regina muses. And who is she to mess with fate if it finally doesn't come crashing down on her, but picks another victim?

“I am not crushing your heart,” she replies, narrowing her eyes. “Dying is the coward’s way out. I am not going to put you out of your misery. You get what I got from you, all those years ago. A darkened heart. Misery. An unhealthy dose of self-loathe. You get to see my mother in your nightmares. And you learn to _live_ with it.”

“No,” Snow says, voice pitched higher in despair as the first tears start to leak from her eyes, staining her cheeks. “Please, please kill me,” she begs. Regina is almost disappointed that she hasn’t fallen on her knees yet. 

“Funny,” Regina sneers. “If it weren’t for your own daughter and my son I probably would have, without thinking twice. I wouldn’t have cared about the darkness, hell, everyone already knows that I _am_ darkness. But then, I probably wouldn’t have had the pleasure of seeing you break down in front of me. This, my dear, is far better.” Snow sobs and Regina is delighted- it’s the best thing she has seen in days. She won’t pretend that she doesn't revel in it. With a smirk, she leans closer. Places an almost gentle finger under Snow’s chin, forces her to look up. Holds the heart in front of her, caressing it gently with her thumb. “Do you know what it does to you? The darkness?” She lowers her voice, draws out the words to the heartbroken woman in front of her, while she taps the dark spot. “It comes for you first. Then, it digs its claws into your family. You’ll tear your little clan apart, all on your own, this family you fought so hard to reunite.” 

Snow lets out a choked whimper and Regina can't help a sinister smile. "Trust me. _I_ know."

Then, without warning, she shoves the heart back into Snow’s chest. The woman cries out in agony and when she staggers backward, Regina waves a dismissive hand. “Spiral away into the darkness, Snow White. I’m done with you. Now, get off my porch.” 

She steps back inside, closes the door behind her. And feels infinitely better now she knows that Snow will be her own downfall. She can wait. Patience is a virtue, is it not? She waits behind the door, lips curling into a smile as she hears Snow breaking down in sobs. 

Good. Let her suffer like she had made Regina suffer.

The bitch deserves every bit of it.

~*~ 

The encounter with Snow lifts Regina’s spirits in a way she hadn’t deemed possible. It’s given her back a sense of control. Lately, she’s felt that she didn’t control anything. That she was wavering at the whim of others, proving she could behave, proving she was worthy of Henry. Dependent in all possible ways.

But not anymore. Taking back some control again feels good.

In the weeks following the incident with Snow, Regina starts to leave the house again. She doesn’t really know why, maybe because she needs a sense of purpose now that the immediate urge to destroy the town and leave with Henry has subsided. It did, because of _Emma_ (she doesn’t really want to linger on why) and the power surge she got from Snow. For now, seeing her nemesis wither away is satisfaction enough.

But in any case, she leaves the house. She needs something to do. Or maybe she just needs to show everyone in this shitty town that she’s still Regina Mills, the Evil Queen, who’s not going to show defeat after everything the heroes have thrown at her, culminating in her mother’s death. She is not going to show weakness.

Of course, she is no longer the mayor, but she walks down her office every day. Moves over the streets briskly, glares at the people she passes and she’s happy to see they still scurry away from her. On a basic level, it is very satisfactory to still be able to instill fear in these fools by merely looking at them. Idiots. All of them. She meets their eyes with a sneer. No matter what they think of her these days, she refuses to be seen as a coward, hiding away in her mansion. She passes them by, her head up high. _Don’t slouch_ , she hears her mother’s voice in her head. And so, she regally makes her way to the office. If anyone objects to her being there, they’re too weak to say otherwise.

She sits behind her desk and gets her affairs in order. Even without the mayoral duties, there’s much to do. Ordering her mother’s things is one of them. Cora apparently liked Regina’s office and left quite a number of parchments in her drawer - some of which contain spells that she's never seen before. Figuring those out gives her something to do.

And then, there's that other thing. Because despite the satisfaction, despite her intention to take control back, there’s a new void inside her. A void that isn’t created by her mother’s death, but by the absence of a certain blond who’s marched into their life and stubbornly claimed her time every time Regina wished she would just stay away, leave her alone.

And now that Emma is finally listening to her by staying away, Regina misses the semi-permanent calls and visits. Since their little… incident, Regina hasn’t heard from her anymore. She’s been tempted to establish the first contact again but doesn’t really know how to. She bought a new phone. Her finger has hovered over the call button next to Emma’s name multiple times. Every time, Regina’s told herself that she’s not worth it, putting the phone away. So much has happened during their last encounter. She doesn’t even know what to say. And so, she waits until Emma reaches out to her. 

Except Emma never does. 

And Regina is supremely irritated by how insecure, how vulnerable that makes her feel.

~*~

Night falls quickly these days as November is slowly giving way to December. Regina pulls her coat closer, the cold seeping in as the daylight swiftly gives way to the dark. She's sat at her favorite bench at the docks for a couple of hours, staring out over the waves. She saw Henry, earlier that day. He was walking with his father at the other side of Main Street. When he'd spotted her, he had smiled. Had raised a tentative hand. She had returned it, her heart fluttering in her chest. After she had dismissed him at her own house, after he'd seen her at her worst, they haven't spoken again. Sometimes she'd seen him with one of his family members, like today, only today was different. He'd seen her. Had stopped walking. And as soon as Rumple's spawn had seen why he had stopped, he had grabbed Henry by the arm and pulled him along. Her heart had dropped through the concrete she'd been standing on.

It had made her vengeful side flare up again. Made her think about the black crystal in her study. And because she didn't want her thoughts to go there, she'd come here. The waves soothed her, and when the night fell and she couldn't see them clearly anymore, she simply listened to the crashing of the waves and the shrieking of the seagulls.

A drop of water hits her nose. She doesn’t mind. If Regina wants to, she is back home in a second. And one of the biggest plusses in this realm still is the running hot water and a luxurious bathtub. So she stands in the drizzle until her coat is starting to soak. 

The daylight is completely gone when she suddenly hears faint voices at the other side of the docks, near the cannery. Curiously, she turns from her fare-out corner of the docks. The only light sources are a couple of lanterns - the one closest to her broken, so the shadows hide her without much effort. 

Then, there’s a raised voice. A young one, frantically calling out to other, more quiet voices. Henry, she realizes. She pulls her coat close, slowly making her way over to the three people. She simply can’t help herself.

“You can’t! You can’t leave her behind!”

She freezes. 

“We might not have a choice, sweetheart,” Snow’s softer voice comes in, raising Regina’s hackles immediately. “She is not a good person. She hasn’t shown any intention of wanting to change, as of late. When we go back… And we will soon, now the beans are almost fully grown, we can’t risk it. We need to heal, all of us, as a family. We don’t need her darkness jamming that.”  
  
“No,” Henry vehemently counters. “She tried! You just can’t see it. She deserves a second chance! Wait - does ma now about this?” He narrows his eyes, throws a suspicious glance their way. “She doesn’t, does she? You haven’t told her?”

Regina inhales sharply, hidden in the shadows of the broken street light. Now, David speaks up and Regina notices how he disregards the second part of the question. “Henry… we’ve given her a dozen second chances. She doesn’t want to change.”  
  
“You’re wrong,” Henry cries out, “She helped Emma with Cora!”

“And then she hurt Emma,” Snow adds. Regina flinches, the memory of Emma’s blood on her fingertips seared into her brain. 

“After you made her kill her mother,” Henry retorts with a snap, “so maybe it’s _your_ fault.”

Regina’s eyes widen, her hand pressed to her chest. Her heart pounds quickly against her fingers. There’s a heavy, lingering silence as they all wait for Snow’s result. Henry’s _right_. And maybe Snow can’t admit it to Regina, but maybe she can admit it to Henry.

But of course, she can't.

“Regina’s killed a lot of people, Henry,” Snow says slowly, quieter now. “Who’s to say that she doesn’t fall back into her old habits?”  
  
“Who’s to say that she would?” Henry stubbornly answers, “You’ll never know unless you give her a second chance.”

“We’re not giving her a second chance,” David says, a definitive tone in his voice. “She’s had too many of those already. But we can give her a choice.”  
  
“David,” Snow starts with a warning, but he lifts a hand.

“No. She gets to choose. Either she stays behind, here in Storybrooke, or she comes with and we’ll keep her in the dungeon where we held Rumplestiltskin before”

“It’s not fair,” Henry forcefully cries out. “Does ma even want to go to the Enchanted Forest?”  
  
“Of course she does. It’s where we come from. We don’t belong here, Henry. This isn’t our home. The Enchanted Forest is where we belong,” Snow tells him. “It’s where we can finally be together as a family. Us, you, your mother, your father.” She smiles at him.

“We’ll discuss it with her tonight. Come on, it’s getting colder. We need to get inside.” David wraps an arm around Henry’s small frame, guiding him away from the docks. 

Regina stirs in the shadows, momentarily paralyzed. She scowls, feels nauseous. Jail for the rest of her life? “I don’t think so,” she murmurs when they’re well out of hearing range. She’s angry. Feels the impotence radiating through her body. Not only did Snow take her mother, but now she also wants to take her son away to leave her behind, all alone? Or lock her up in a cage, like some animal? Snow speaks of chances not taken - isn’t she the little hypocrite.

She can’t let this happen. Henry, he sounded desperate. He doesn’t want her to stay behind. Doesn’t want her locked up. She doesn’t really know why, but he wants her to have another chance. And if they’re not going to offer it to her, she is going to force them to. 

Instantly, she makes a decision. The Charmings are not taking Henry away from her. Even though Regina’s abandoned the idea of destroying the town and taking Henry these last few weeks, she is not going to let _them_ take Henry instead. She knows about their plans so _she_ can take control of the situation.

Her breath is shaky as she tries to order her racing thoughts. Think, Regina, she scolds herself, _Think._

Beans. They were talking about growing beans. Beans would be the answer to her own problem, as well. She can just simply get Henry, throw a bean, and be gone from this insipid town and its deranged inhabitants. Go to another realm - and there are so many, they’ll never find them. The only problem is their location. During her walks in and around town, she hasn’t seen any new land cultivated to grow any crops. A muscle tightens in her jaw as she realizes that the blue bug must’ve aided them to hide it. A cloaking spell, of course.

Beans need, what, 50 days to grow? Regina counts quickly, realizes that they must have started growing the fields a while ago if they’re almost ready for use. It’s almost four weeks since the giant wreaked havoc on the town. And of course, Snow and Charming have convinced him to stay. She realizes why, at this very moment. Giants have always been known as the beans’ keepers. With a little bit of magic it won’t take a lot more time for normal beans to fully grow, let alone magical ones. Her stomach tightens in panic. 

It means that she’s running out of time.

Silently, she makes her way over to Main Street, her mind frantically going over all the details she’s probably missed. The giant. He’s the one who knows about crops. And didn’t she see him with the other dwarves lately?

Regina checks her watch. It’s around dinnertime. Granny’s is her best bet to find them - if she must, she’ll torture it out of one of them, she thinks, teeth clenched until her jaws hurt. She lingers in the shadows, keeping an eye at Granny’s, a plan forming in her mind. If she can get her hand on one of those bean plants and destroy the rest, she can prevent the others from leaving. From following her. By the time they find another way to cross realms she and Henry will be long gone. There’s this pesky other-mother thing she has to figure out because Henry surely wouldn’t want to leave without _her_ , but once the beans are destroyed she can worry about that.

A large group of tiny humans breaks her chain of thought -they’ve just parked their pick up truck, and while Grumpy shuts off the engine, the other seven jump out of the back. There’s laughter, slaps on shoulders and then, they disappear into Granny’s. The noise they produce dies when the door closes behind them.

God, she hates dwarves.

Regina emerges from her spot. She murmurs a spell, waves her hand, and makes a circular motion. Her fingertips glow softly for a second and then, the same soft glow leaves her body, flows, first around the truck, then on the road, revealing its path, revealing where it’s been. She smiles contently. Time to follow the breadcrumbs, she muses as she starts walking.

It doesn’t take her long to get there. It is not even that far out of town, she realizes. It’s a spot which she passed multiple times these last weeks. The softly glowing path disappears in the empty fields on the left side of the road and carefully, she follows it, stepping forward where it vanishes into thin air. The moment she steps through the cloaking spell, she inhales sharply as the scene unfolds in front of her eyes. 

Rows and rows of beautiful, healthy beanstalks stretch ahead of her. And she notices that they are almost fully grown. She blinks slowly, overcomes her initial shock before she moves over to the first plants and checks its beans. Just a couple of days more and these beans are ready to use. Horrified, she realizes that they can bring everyone to the Enchanted Forest again. And then some. For centuries, crossing realms has been a problem. They won’t have that problem for a very, very long time. There are enough beans to hop portals for a very, very long time into the future. It antagonizes her, even more, when she thinks about what she heard at the docks. 

_She_ is not invited. Rage starts to boil inside her. Well, she grimly thinks, that’s not going to happen. Time to turn the tables. Time to take back control of her own life. _They_ are not going to decide _anything_ anymore. Those morons will know who they’re dealing with. 

It takes only a flip of her hand, the curling of her fingers before a familiar warmth springs to life. The fireball flickers brightly and her mouth twists in a smile before she throws it into the nearest row. Another one follows quickly, and a third, fourth, fifth, until all the rows are burning.

She procures the one plant closest to her, pulls it from the ground, and takes a step back, watching the fields burn, enjoying the sight of how the licking flames devour the leaves, reveling in the satisfying feeling of the beans turning to ashes. Sometimes she lifts her fingers to add flames to wherever she likes. It’s like pretty fireworks, she muses in delight. Henry would’ve liked it, maybe. If it weren’t magic beans burning. He’ll understand, she thinks. He will understand why she had to do this. Because he had sounded desperate earlier. He’s starting to see the gray, that not everything is black and white. 

It’s what she holds on to when she closes her eyes to welcome the heat radiating from the fire - she welcomes it. It’s the only warmth she’s felt in days. And she stays there until the once flourishing plants are nothing more than smoldering embers, immensely satisfied that she’s finally taking back control of her own life. And only then she leaves for her mansion.

It’s the first time she sleeps well in weeks.

~*~

A loud pounding on her door wakes her up. She slowly blinks, groans as the pounding only increases in sound, and turns to her other side, trapping herself in her silky bed sheets. A quick look at her alarm clock teaches her that it’s well after eight in the morning. 

She can’t remember the last time she woke after the crack of dawn. Normally, she’s up somewhere between five and six. She smiles. Sabotaging Snow White’s plans of abandoning the Evil Queen apparently gives said Queen peace of mind, she smirks as she stretches her limbs lazily. 

The pounding on her door doesn’t subside, unfortunately, so she sighs, a tiny frown on her face when she pushes herself up, disentangles herself from her sheets, and slips into a robe. A quick glance in the mirror makes her run fingers through her hair - hell, she just snaps her fingers to straighten it out - before she descends the stairs, taking her time to reach the door. 

Because she already knows who’s behind it.

“Regina, I swear to God, if you don’t open up I’ll kick the door in,” an all too familiar voice roars at the other side. 

Yes, there’s only one in this town that would threaten her like that, and for some reason, she’s amused. She opens the door, a confident smirk on her face. It’s the first time they look eye to eye since their last... unfortunate encounter. If there is any insecurity within Regina, it’s quelled when Emma immediately takes a step forward into Regina’s personal space, Face scrunched up in anger.

“What the hell were you thinking, Regina? Did you think _at all?_ ” she snaps at her.

Regina smiles widely. There’s that anger that she had come to appreciate. Anger is a language Regina understands. She can work with that. She hasn’t seen it on Emma for far too long. There was… understanding. Exasperation. Frustration, sometimes. And… kindness, which always felt awkward. Vulnerability. Something else during their last encounter that she’s never dared to address. But these past few weeks, never anger. It’s been a while. And Regina finds that Emma’s anger… heats up something inside her. Thaws something that was frozen before. Not just Emma’s anger. The whole of Emma, in fact, and that thought is a little unsettling right now.

“I’m preventing you from taking my son to a faraway realm, Miss Swan.” Regina sounds smug, disregards these _feelings_. She’s still happy with her small victory.

“God, Regina! You are so…” Emma grinds her teeth, snarls at her while she raises her hands in frustration, buries them inside her own hair, and pulls it - Regina stares fascinated at the movements. “If you would have _stopped_ thinking for a moment that everyone is out to doublecross you and had _asked_ me _,_ I would have gladly filled you in on what has been discussed. But it didn’t even cross your _mind_ , did it?!”

“Oh, _really?_ ” Regina replies, venom lining her voice as she spits out the words. Her fingers dig into the lapels of her robe, while slightly leaning forward. “Because we really left things on speaking terms, did we not?” She can’t think about it, doesn’t want to relive that kiss. “I haven’t seen you running to my doorstep to keep me up to date, either.” 

“Didn’t you threaten me to send me flying if I did?” Emma snaps.  
  
“When did that ever stop you before?” Regina answers with a raised eyebrow. She has the upper hand. Anger makes people lose focus. It’s a lesson she’s learned a long time ago. “And there are also phones. You know you can even send messages with those, hm?”

Emma bristles. “I wanted to give you _time_ . You know, to think. So you could, I don’t know, grieve for your mother. Figure things out. Like _normal_ people do. I didn’t expect you to set an entire bean field on fire.” 

Regina scowls. “I _did_ figure things out,” she snaps. “The way you’d give me the option to either stay behind in Storybrooke or tag along, so that my son would be able to visit me in a magical cage, hidden away in a backward cave? Without these beans, you won’t be able to.”

She sees the confusion on Emma’s face and latches on immediately. She quirks an eyebrow, almost mocking. “Ah. So your _parents_ failed to mention that little bit. Maybe you don’t know these deranged hypocrites as well as you think you do,” she sneers.

“Do you really think I would’ve stood for that? That I would have let that happen?” Emma snaps back, leaning forward as well.  
  
“Why the hell would you not, Miss Swan? I am still the Evil Queen, after all.” There’s a flicker of hurt in her voice and if Emma hears it, she chooses to ignore it.

“Burning the field has nothing to do with you being the Evil Queen and everything with you being a _stuck up bitch_ ,” Emma bites at her, raising her finger and poking it into Regina’s chest on those last three words.

Now, _that_ gets her riled up. The _nerves_. Who the hell does Emma think she’s talking to? Her chest heaves quickly, up and down. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Both the words and the poking finger infuriate her to no end. “Don’t touch me,” Regina snaps. She struggles to control her anger, knows she’ll lose her upper hand if she can’t keep herself together.

Emma sees it through her own red haze of anger and not acknowledging Regina’s warning, she taunts her. “It hurts when it’s true, isn’t it?”

This isn’t about the bean field anymore, Regina suddenly realizes as she fights the urge to shove Emma off her porch. This is about what happened the last time, her refusal to talk about it, and both their frustrations of what came to pass last night woven into it.

Emma is too close, Regina suddenly realizes. Stands into her personal space, their noses almost touch. The air around them shifts, crackles, is filled with pent up anger and something else entirely. They breathe in each other’s angry exhales, take in the rage on each other’s faces. Regina’s fingers curl, turning her hands into fists, desperately ignores the electricity in the air as she realizes how close they exactly are. “Ride away on that high horse of you, _savior,”_ she hisses, “because-”

And then Emma closes the small distance between them, grabs Regina’s shoulders and silences her by letting her lips crash into Regina’s. Now it’s Regina’s turn to gasp - it’s surprise, but at the same time, it isn’t. It feels inevitable. Emma releases her shoulders, hands fly to her hips to yank Regina closer as they stagger back into the hallway. In the meantime, Regina’s hands automatically go up to frame Emma’s face, not allowing her to break the connection. 

Regina’s instincts take over when the heat rises in her stomach, as much as it did last time and then some. But now, there’s added rage, frustration - it has nothing to do with quelling loneliness. This has nothing to do with being alone and everything with anger, being hurt, not wanting to give in. She sinks her teeth in Emma’s lower lip, causing the blonde to whimper and Regina takes the opportunity to violently shut the door and shove Emma against it, hands planted firmly against Emma’s shoulders to pin her against the door.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” Regina snarls when she pulls her head away, her eyes flashing with rage. Because heat surges up inside her - she tells herself that it’s because she’s outraged by Emma’s impulsivity to kiss her. She breathes heavily.

“Look who’s talking,” Emma growls back, shoving Regina away momentarily, only to grab her by the lapels of her robe, yanking her back and suddenly, Regina finds herself pressed to the door as Emma brings her face close to hers. “You give up on your second chance and everyone who still _does_ want to help you because you think you don’t deserve it. Nobody needs to destroy you, because you’re doing it yourself.” Her fingers painfully dig into Regina’s side, and Regina gasps in outrage. Who the hell does Emma think she is?

“Forgiveness is obviously not in my cards, Miss Swan. Vengeance is,” she snaps before her fingers nails dig into the base of Emma’s neck. She claims Emma’s lips again, sucks in Emma’s lower lip with force, but Emma pulls away with a hiss. 

“It only is because you can’t look past your own hurt,” Emma growls, panting. Her mouth wanders to the side of Regina’s neck and Regina automatically tilts her head to give Emma access. The blonde grazes her teeth over Regina’s sensitive skin, extracting a low growl from Regina’s throat and then in frustration, Emma bites hard into the pulse point, which causes a shiver of anticipation to run over Regina’s back. “If you just let me _try and if you’d fucking cooperate a little_ and you won’t be an idiot about it you could have a shot at a happy ending,” Emma growls against her skin, the breaths a welcome breeze against her heated skin. 

“Well,” Regina gasps, throwing her head back and she welcomes the pain when Emma sinks her teeth in a particularly sensitive spot. She welcomes the pain and the arousal it accompanies because it distracts her from the rest of the miserable life Emma’s referring to, and purrs, “There’s at least one happy ending you can give me.” 

“Shut up, you asshole.” Emma snaps, moves her mouth from Regina’s neck to her cheek, causing Regina to shake violently as Emma reaches another particularly sensitive spot just below her jaw.

“I hate you,” Regina hisses. She shoves Emma backward, away, into the study. Emma momentarily staggers.

“No, you don’t,” Emma snarls back, steadying herself, before narrowing her eyes, which shine with a combination of pent-up desire and anger, “You hate _yourself_.” She steps closer and grabs a fist full of Regina’s hair, which draws angry gasps from the brunette. She attacks Regina’s mouth with her own. Regina responds aggressively, not wanting to yield, and tries to take over control. She succeeds momentarily when she pushes the jacket from Emma’s shoulders, trapping her arms for a second. 

“Stop talking,” Regina bites at her. Emma’s _right_ but Regina really doesn’t want to acknowledge anything now but the raging fire inside her, consuming her whole as her hands slip under Emma’s shirt and dig in the soft flesh of her shoulders, before dragging her nails down until her fingers dig into the small of her back. It makes Emma curl her back towards her and it makes Regina smirk in satisfaction before Emma claims her mouth again. This raw, angry lust doesn’t allow anything else but to feel intensely, it awakens all her senses simultaneously. Her skin is overly sensitive to Emma’s touch and it doesn’t have anything to do with the roughness. Even Emma’s angry accelerated breaths make her skin bubble with frenzied passion. She smells the blonde’s flowery shampoo mixed with the scent of rain, and when her hand goes up to bury her hands in her hair to pull her closer, she feels how soft the curls are. She curls her hand into a fist and drags her tongue over Emma’s neck, extracting a low groan from Emma’s throat. 

And then Emma, who’s freed herself from her jacket, returns the favor of stripping away clothes, pushes the lapels of the robe back, and growls in satisfaction when it reveals a silky gray negligee underneath. And despite the fury they’re both running on, Emma hesitates a second, stops to admire what she finds as her hands run over Regina’s sides in an unexpectedly soft, almost reverent touch. Something in Regina’s chest expands and it suffocates her, so she desperately wants to take control again. Her hands find the hem of Emma’s shirt and she roughly yanks it over her head. Something tears. She doesn’t care.  
  


She lowers her head, bites in the soft flesh of Emma’s left breast, right above her bra, and Emma hisses, shudders violently. Regina continues to bite, suck, leave purple bruises, claiming Emma as hers. It satisfies her to no end. Makes her need Emma even more. She doesn’t want to stop and think why, but god, she needs her. Passion surges through her veins, makes her blood sing, makes her want _more._

Emma pushes her bac and Regina loses her balance when her lower legs hit the couch. She topples over with a gasp, landing hard against the couch’ backrest. Her adrenaline merges with her arousal, but there’s no time to recover because Emma’s immediately on top of her, straddles her as she pushes the robe off her shoulders. She bends her head, latches her lips onto Regina’s neck, kisses, bites, sucks until Regina, too, has colored spots all over her neck. And God, Regina whimpers, it is good.

Regina moans, digs her nails into Emma’s back, and draws hot red marks over her lower back and flanks. Emma growls as Regina’s hand reaches her waistband, where adept fingers easily unbutton Emma’s jeans. She yanks it down when Emma lifts herself just enough to allow it. Emma struggles out of the rest of her jeans and claims her place again - she straddles Regina with only her slip and bra, and Regina smirks. The blonde might _think_ she has the upper hand by trapping her on the couch, she thinks as her fingers pull the underwear aside, but she really hasn’t. There’s a split second of hesitation before her fingers find the slickened folds, making Emma gasp, and then she slips two fingers in Emma’s hot center.

Emma’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she breathes and then her breath stutters and Regina’s body responds immediately - she gasps in delight and feels how her own center burns with want. Heat coils inside her belly, surges up and heats her cheeks. She needs Emma, more than she can ever know. She leans in closer, nips at Emma’s neck. Emma whimpers softly, pressing her hips closer to Regina’s fingers. When Emma’s breath quickens, so does Regina’s, automatically. Regina starts to move her fingers inside Emma, first slowly, but faster and harder with every thrust. Emma’s eyes fall shut as she starts to rock firmly against Regina’s hand, riding her fingers while burying her face in the brunette’s shoulder and pants, bites, sucks, _moans, growls -_ sounds that send shivers of anticipation down Regina’s spine, and it all comes together in the sensitive spot between her legs. In a mix of wonder and excitement she feels how the movements of Emma’s body become more erratic as she nears her climax - Emma tenses up as she climbs higher with every thrust of Regina’s fingers, comes closer to the edge with every twist of Regina’s fingers.

Regina places her free hand on Emma’s chest, roughly pushes her upper body backward, away from her shoulder, and then grabs her chin, forces Emma to look at her.

“Look at me,” Regina hisses, not stopping the movement of her fingers. Emma blinks, dark desire, angry lust whirling in her eyes as she tries to focus on Regina. The mist in Emma’s eyes clears up just a bit as Regina curls her fingers inside the blonde, resulting in a low groan. “Tell me what you see.” She doesn’t know why she asks. Doesn’t know why she wants to hear Emma say it. Doesn’t know why she wants to torture herself. 

“I- “ Emma throws her head in her neck and closes her eyes, thrusts her hips forward, breath shaking. "Jesus, fuck," she growls. Heat radiates off her and Regina finds herself fascinated by the way the green of Emma’s eyes darkens as she tries to hold the gaze. 

“Tell me,” Regina snarls, slipping in another finger, twisting her hand so she can place her thumb on Emma’s clit, which extracts another quivering whimper that sends bolts of lightning to Regina’s core. 

“Regina,” Emma breathes, gritting her teeth. Her eyes are hazy with passion, a sheen of sweat covering her body. “I-I see Regina.” 

“No,” Regina barks, extracting her fingers and plunging them back in Emma’s hot center, “The real me.” Another time she thrusts fingers back in, extracting a cry from the blonde.

The forceful thrusts make it hard to talk, but Emma spits out the words as well as she can while she tries to delay her climax. “I know… what you want… to hear but,” Emma heaves, throwing her head in her neck, placing one hand on Regina’s shoulder, fingers almost painfully curling into her shoulder, while the other slams in the sofa’s backrest next to Regina’s head, steadying herself, “but you’ve never been… the Evil Queen to me.”

Regina halts her movements in surprise and Emma curves her back in protest, curls her fingers in Regina’s hair and desperately crashes her lips into the brunette's. It jumpstarts Regina’s fingers again, and she digs the nails of her free hand in Emma’s upper leg. The noises escaping from Emma’s throat are unearthly, unlike anything Regina’s ever heard but satisfying as nothing has ever done before, and they move faster, harder in unison, still sailing on frustration, anger, and the blonde’s movements become erratic, uncontrollable, until Emma’s entire body tenses, her eyes snap open, and Regina sees how she comes with a cry, a breath of Regina’s name on her lips, sees how Emma topples over the edge and makes a crash landing. Her body shudders and shakes violently when the waves of the forceful orgasm wash over her. Regina’s movements go on and on, satisfied beyond words as she feels how Emma’s walls clench and unclench around her wet fingers. She steadies Emma with her free hand, fingers curled around Emma’s waist. Arousal washes over her treacherous body and her own need for release is almost painful.

As the waves of the orgasm subside, so do Regina’s movements until there’s nothing left but a shaking, shallow breathing. Emma momentarily leans her sweaty forehead against Regina’s, trying to catch her breath. The moment is almost peaceful, tender, Regina thinks, watching Emma slowly return to earth. Despite her own aroused state she is strangely satisfied with Emma’s state of being, feels almost… victorious. A content smirk lines her lips. It’s been a long time since sex, even as angry as this, has been this fulfilling. And she hasn't even come yet.

And then, Regina blinks. Confusion enters her clouded brain and she narrows her eyes. Emma’s forehead against her, the soft breaths mixing with her own exhales, the way the quiet satisfaction of the moment falls over them both - it’s all a little too intimate. Suddenly, a feeling of anxiety settles in her stomach - this isn’t what she wanted to get out of this. This isn’t in her cards. 

This isn’t what she _deserves._

She freezes. Goosebumps erupt over her body and she shakes her head lightly against Emma’s and then pulls back her head, away from the blonde’s touch. She doesn’t know why all of this is happening, doesn't want to think about it either, she just knows that it _is_ and she desperately _needs_ Emma, now more than ever. But she shouldn’t. She doesn’t deserve any of this. Her self-contempt comes through the haze and she can’t, she doesn’t want to think about how much Emma’s right. _You hate yourself._ She does, she _does_ and Emma made her forget and God, she needs to forget a little longer.

So Regina doesn't give Emma the chance to fully recover and plants her hands firmly against her shoulder, shoving her backward. "Live up to your promise, Savior," she bites, trying to pull her walls back up, masking her despair and loath for herself, "and finish it." Roughly pulled out of her post-orgastic haze, Emma snarls at her.

It only adds to Regina's frustrated desire to see Emma lose her balance and land on the floor in front of her and when the blonde looks up, Regina gasps upon seeing those green eyes filled with a new, frustrated hunger. She swallows thickly when the heat flares up inside her as the blonde’s hands firmly grasp Regina’s thighs, pulling herself up to her knees until she’s sitting in front of the couch, facing Regina. Automatically, Regina spreads her legs, making it easy for Emma to access. She wants her, needs her, so, so much that she ignores the ringing alarm bells in the back of her head. Bells that quickly subside when Emma’s tongue draws wavy lines over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh.

She feels the wetness between her own legs, sees that Emma notices her soaked panties as well, and Regina, while breathing shallowly in anticipation, sees a muscle clenching in the blonde’s jaw, eyes narrowing, before Emma’s hands shoot up and she roughly jerks the underwear down over Regina's legs. Breath catches in Regina's throat as Emma's nails scratch the inside of her legs, runs her fingers up to her thighs' apex before returning the favor, shoving two fingers inside.

Regina's back curves automatically and she opens her mouth, but only a choked sound leaves her lips. She doesn't miss the content smirk on Emma's face and her upper lip curls in a snarl while she grits her teeth. This is supposed to give her release, plain and simple. It's not about feelings. Not about green understanding eyes, that see more than they should. Regina's hurt, broken, feels deceived and she doesn’t want to think what this all means, what it can never be.

And yet, with Emma's fingers plunging, twisting, and curling deep inside her, there's something inevitable about them coming together. There’s a twisted sense of understanding, of _belonging_ between them _._ Emma presses the palm of her hand against Regina’s clit and she leans forward, catching one of Regina’s nipples through the silky nightgown. All thoughts leave Regina’s mind and the only thing left is to _feel_ . Regina curves her body, to close the distance to Emma even more, _craves_ her touch, fingers, the skin-to-skin touch, the release Emma can give her and the blonde picks up on it as if she can read her mind. There is a storm in Emma’s gaze when their eyes briefly meet that takes Regina’s breath away until Emma's eyes flick back to her goal.

Emma releases the nipple and lowers her head, wraps her free hand around Regina's right leg to keep her in place. Slows the speed of her fingers and runs her tongue through Regina's slickened folds, extracting a whimpering cry from the brunette.

Emma's tongue finds Regina’s center, sucks her clit into her mouth. Regina’s hips buck involuntarily, but Emma’s strong arms keep her firmly in place. Emma’s fingers match the speed of her thrusts with her tongue’s. Regina's brain short circuits, she can only helplessly undergo everything Emma’s giving her. Heat coils through her veins, her heart rate goes up, her heart hammers in her chest, the ever-building tension in her lower belly with every movement Emma makes is nearing an explosion. Her chest tightens with each thrust, each stroke of Emma's tongue, choked sounds leave her throat. Her body feels elevated and she climbs, flies higher and higher. She doesn't want this to end and at the same time she longs for the release, needs it, and she wraps her legs firmly around Emma's shoulders to keep her in place. Her body shakes violently, she whimpers, moans, pants as she nears the edge until finally, a sob escapes her as she explodes, comes undone into a million tiny little pieces, and feels free, free, _free_.

She faintly registers how Emma lifts her head as the waves of the orgasm violently crash into her like they never have before, feels how the blonde is watching her, and automatically, she lifts her arm to cover her glassy eyes, to hide her vulnerability as the strength leaves her legs. They slide off Emma’s shoulders, fall numbly to the ground and Emma withdraws immediately.

For a moment, there’s nothing but Regina’s contracting body, blissfully numb. Then, after a couple of seconds, she hears a deep sigh. "Happy ending enough for you?" Emma mutters flatly.

Regina's eyes flutter open and she removes her arm from her face. Emma sounds defeated. The outside world they left behind during their sexual frenzy invades her mind violently and she cringes.

Barely recovered, she can’t deal with the defeat, the disappointment. Not after what has just happened. Not when that earth-shattering experience leaves her unexpectedly vulnerable, tears open the scars of memories long gone. Regina’s mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. She doesn’t even know what to say as the agony settles in the pit of her stomach.

Emma sighs, gets up, bends over to grab her pants. Regina’s eyes trail over the blonde's body. She faintly registers the red scratches, the marks her nails and mouth left. Her body must mirror hers, she realizes. They both weren’t kind. They both didn’t need kindness. Not now.

And yet… It wasn’t kindness, but it was something. Regina’s never felt as vulnerable, as exposed, naked - both literally and figuratively even more - as she has now.

The defeat she heard in Emma's voice coils through her own body as well. She pulls her robe close to her body, curls her fingers into it while she sees how Emma gets up and moves to grab her shirt, pulls it over her head with rough, angry movements. Then, the blonde reaches for her jacket.

"Please don't leave."

She doesn't know who's more surprised: Emma, standing with one arm already tucked in her jacket, or Regina, who spoke with a voice barely more than a whisper, more vulnerable than they both ever heard. It startles them both. Emma stands frozen to her spot. Regina can barely look at her.

It takes a few seconds before Emma replies with a furrowed brow: "Why?"

Emma's question is simple, but there’s a bitter lining in her voice. Regina raises her head to meet Emma's eyes. "I..." Regina swallows, closes her robe tightly around her. She feels lost, insecure. "Everyone always leaves." And suddenly, she feels like a little girl again, with only the staff to keep her company. Whenever she bonded with someone, they left. Daniel. Her father, by her own hand. Het mother, too, albeit under different circumstances. Henry.

Emma.

Or maybe not. Because Emma still stands there. She tilts her head, wondering what Emma’s going to do. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape her - Regina has tried to drive Emma away so many times, both to prove to herself that she eventually wouldn’t return and for Emma’s own protection, and now, for the first time, she asked her not to go.

She can see Emma’s contemplating something, but she doesn’t really expect the blonde to stay. And then, there’s a shift in the air. There's a new tension between them, one which Regina, with her unexpected vulnerability, is scared to address. Especially with what just happened between them.

Regina’s eyes wander away from Emma’s features, fly through the room while desperately trying to regain somewhat of her dignity, somewhat of her regal attitude. But Emma has waltzed through the walls she built up around herself and has exposed the scared, lonely woman underneath. The woman who hates herself, more than anyone else in the world.

 _You hate yourself_ , Emma said. She is so right.

Emma is still standing frozen to her spot, but when Regina’s eyes settle back on Emma’s face, she sees how Emma studies her. As if she doesn’t know what to make of Regina.

“So, should we… address what just happened?” She waves a helpless hand in the air. “Talk about this?” 

The air moves as Emma moves towards her. Regina tightens her grip around her robe, follows her movements a little wary as Emma lowers herself at the edge of the couch. Her mere presence is a comfort and that realisation is yet another surprise. But they are both silent, not really knowing how to address their almost feral get-together.

“I’m sorry,” Emma finally says and Regina’s head jerks up.

“What the hell are you sorry about?” she snaps. If anyone should apologize, it’s _her_. 

Emma smiles a little strained. “Let’s just say… the bean field wasn't my only frustration this morning. I… had a little falling out with Mary Margaret before I came here. And since our last… I think I carried some of that with me, as well.” She wants to wave it away, doesn’t want to burden Regina with her own problems but for the first time, Regina finds that she wants to know. She wants to know what goes on in Emma’s head. “And, um, I’m sorry about losing control. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before. Not like this.” She shakes her head and so does Regina. Because Emma is not the one who should be sorry.

“Well. I am sorry, too.” Regina cringes when she sees the hickies and red markings on Emma’s neck and shoulders. “About…” Her voice dies out. There's so much that she feels the need to apologize for. But apologizing is difficult for someone who's never really felt the need to do so. "So much," she finishes softly. 

This time, Emma’s smirk is more genuine. She appreciates the returned apology even if Regina can’t find the words. “Well,” she says awkwardly, scraping her throat, “if this is what happens when we’re angry, imagine what we can do when we have more time and are a little… nicer to each other. Because well… it was kinda mind-blowing, wasn’t it?” She smiles a little sheepishly.

Again, Regina is perplexed - by both Emma’s words and her own body's response, because she feels how she immediately warms up again. She can’t be serious, can she? 

She tilts her head, tries to read Emma, but her own insecurities cloud her vision. “Yes… yes, it was,” she acknowledges, her voice a little hoarse, collecting herself as she adds a little bolder, “and let’s see if we can find out.” And she’s pleased to see that Emma’s eyes widen in surprise as well.

The room’s atmosphere is a little weird all of a sudden, and Regina stands up, needing some distance and clothes, perhaps. “I’m going to get dressed,” she announces and walks to the hallway. Then, she hesitates. Because yes, she needs a little time to collect her thoughts but doesn't want to be alone. “Will you be here when I get back?”  
  
“If you want me to,” Emma quietly replies. There’s something in her eyes that Regina doesn’t understand, but yes. Regina finds that she really wants her to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of self-harm & verbal/physical/emotional abuse

“Coffee?” 

Regina returns ten minutes later, fully dressed. The ten minutes on her own haven’t done much to ease her own mind, being fully aware that Emma was still downstairs, waiting. She doesn’t really know what to say or do, and it makes her anxious. She doesn’t even know what to feel right now. She just knows that the house suddenly feels too big to be alone in and that it helps that Emma’s here.

She finds Emma leaning against the staircase and motions her to follow her into the kitchen. She can’t be in the study right now because of what’s just happened there and offering Emma something to drink is the least she can do.

Emma chuckles - a nervous laugh which shows Regina that she’s not alone in her confusion. “Yeah, why the hell not,” Emma murmurs, before following Regina into the kitchen. She folds her arms, leaning against the counter and Regina, going around the counter, feels Emma’s eyes on her back.

Her hands are trembling, she notices, when she grabs the coffee beans. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you this morning, before you got here?” She looks over her shoulder as the beans are being grounded. Despite everything, it’s strangely homely, the two of them in her kitchen. Which only makes the situation even more absurd than it already is, after what’s just happened between them. 

“About me fighting with my mother?” Emma looks back at her, a little wary. “I’m not really sure. You despise her.” 

Regina smirks. “I suppose so. But as much as I love to hear all about Snow’s agony, I also want to… return the favor. You let me cry, vent, whatever you call it. Let me do the same for you.” 

Emma hums, a sign she’s thinking about it. Regina waits for the coffee to be ready, then walks around the kitchen island to hand Emma her mug and leans at the counter next to her, observing her closely. There’s an additional reason Regina rather wants to talk about Emma’s problems, a more selfish one. If they talk about Emma, they don’t have to talk about her. Because she’s a hot mess, and there’s only a shallow layer of veneer covering it all.

For a little while, they stand next to each other. Regina doesn’t believe they’ve ever been this relaxed together, even with this new, awkward tension between them. She sips her coffee. 

“We had a fight about…. about destiny.” Emma finally starts. 

Regina raises her eyebrows. She nods quietly, acknowledging that she’s heard Emma, and takes another sip of her coffee as she gives Emma space to sort out her thoughts.

“Mary Margaret told Henry that we’d be going home soon.”

A surge of betrayal makes Regina almost choke on her coffee, but Emma touches her arm in sympathy. “I told her we’re not going anywhere. I was so... _irritated_ with her because she just assumed that we would be this - this perfect little family in fairytale forest. Then, she told me that I’d fulfilled my destiny as a savior. I defeated you, I broke the curse, now everyone would get to go home and live their merry little lives.” She smiles wryly. “Long story short, I basically told her that destiny could go fuck itself and I wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Henry.”

Regina tilts her head, notices the bitterness lining Emma’s features while relief settles in her chest. “Well, that must’ve been a sight,” Regina says dryly, “wish I’d been there to watch it.” And Emma laughs, a little strained.

“It was. A sight. Especially when I told her that destiny didn’t shove me into a magic closet and left me to fend for my own. I was so angry,” she mutters, and Regina sees guilt flashing over her face. “She said that you’d wanted to kill me, and that she had wanted to come with me but she couldn’t and I had to save everyone.” She rolls her eyes. “She said she didn’t have a choice. So I told her there’s always another option.” Now, Emma’s eyes flick to Regina, looks at her intently. “There always is.” Regina tries to hold her gaze for a little while, but can’t. She lowers her gaze, consumed by guilt herself. 

“She wasn’t wrong though. I was going to kill you,” she murmurs quietly. 

Emma smirks. Pats her arm. “Yeah well. You didn’t. I forgive you for your intention. As I’ll eventually forgive her.”

It is a playful remark, meant to lighten up the atmosphere but Regina tenses immediately, her mouth snaps shut. A muscle tightens in her jaw and she frowns at Emma, who eyes her quizzically. 

“Why do you always do that?” Regina says, sidestepping to create a little more space between them.

“Do what?” 

“Try to convince me that I can return from what I’ve become. Make... forgiveness seem so easy.” Her eyes narrow. 

Emma is quiet. For a moment they just stare at each other. There’s genuine concern in Emma’s eyes. Nobody ever looked at her with concern - not for her. Their concern was mostly for their own lives. It is so unusual that Regina just keeps staring back awkwardly.

“It’s not,” Emma finally admits, placing her mug on the counter. “Easy, I mean. It’s fucking hard.”

Regina’s stomach tightens and she sighs. She deflates against the kitchen counter, closes her eyes for a moment. “Oh.”

“But it’s possible. It’s a hard road, messy and painful and it’s absolutely the hard way out, but it’s also the most rewarding, in the end.” Emma pushes her fists into the back pockets of her jeans and leans casually against the counter. “I know who you are, Regina. I’ve worked long enough with, and against you now to know. The problem is you.”  
  
Henry would probably have responded with, “Well, _duh_ .” Of course, Regina doesn’t, but it does rile her up, even though it’s less than before. And it gives Regina some of her fire back, and she rolls with her eyes as she snorts. “Oh, please, Miss Swan,” Regina sarcastically responds. “Please, _enlighten_ me why you believe I am the problem.”

Emma smiles a little. “You’re blocking every chance of redemption, atonement, forgiveness, whatever you want to achieve because you can’t stop punishing yourself.”

Regina stills and pales. Emma tilts her head and continues. “And I know how it feels. Because I’ve been there,” she continues, raising one of her hands to grab her mug again. “I was you for a very long time.”

Bile rises up in Regina’s throat. “You’re nothing like me,” she hisses, taking a step away from Emma. But Emma just tilts her head. Looks a little sad. Sympathetic. 

“Okay, I didn’t burn a bean field when I was upset, no. Though I have to say, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t have magic back then.” There’s a hint of self-mockery in her voice that Regina nearly misses, because her heart is hammering in her chest and she feels warm. Tries to maintain her posture. 

“There are more similarities to our stories than you’d probably see at first glance, Regina. Like you, I was alone all the time. That’s toxic for people like us. Because it gives us far too much time to think. And it makes you spiral into darkness until it settles in the depths of your soul and it consumes you. And it makes you do things you regret, events which drag you even further down until there’s no way back. Until you can’t redeem yourself anymore.” She sips her coffee to give herself some time. Regina shakes her head lightly, curls her fingers around the kitchen counter. Emma slowly turns her head and smirks painfully when she sees Regina's shocked face. “Guess your illegally obtained file didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

Regina needs to process what Emma’s revealing, and she remains silent. There’s no snarky or sarcastic remark. She just looks at Emma, frown on her forehead.

“You?” She finally says, a little disbelief in her voice, “What the hell did you do to need forgiveness?”

Emma sighs, shakes her head. “It’s not about what I _did_. It’s about how I saw myself, and how I abused myself accordingly.” She puts her cup on the counter and turns to Regina, inhaling deeply. “I hated everyone. And myself the most. The biggest difference is that I, eventually, started to hurt myself to stop feeling that self-loathe and emotional pain. You directed yours to the outside world, you turned it into revenge.” 

Regina wants to deny it, already opens her mouth to do so. But nothing comes out. Breathing in and out shallowly, she shakes her head lightly as she feels the investigative green eyes on her face but she directs her eyes to her feet, not able to deal with whatever gaze Emma throws at her. She frowns. Her hand shoots out for support and finds the kitchen counter and her fingers curl around it to keep her grounded. 

The words Emma spat angrily at her not so long ago still ring in her mind. _You hate yourself._ Regina knows she does. She can’t not hate herself. An image of Cupid’s arrow flashes through her mind. Her breakdown in the vault, after her mother tested her. The Evil Queen staring back at her when she looked in the mirror. Her disgust of herself after she nearly choked Emma.

She swallows thickly, keeps her eyes averted. But something clicks in her mind. For Regina, revenge and her self-hate have been two separate things. Emma’s suggestion that they’re somehow linked is something that Regina wants to dismiss entirely, but she finds that she can’t.

And then, when she breathes slowly in and out, her eyes travel from the floor back to Emma. Her voice is stuck in her throat. And to keep her fingers from fidgeting, she takes her own coffee and folds her fingers around the mug. It’s like Emma waited for Regina to come back to her, because she quietly starts to speak again.

“Nobody wanted me,” Emma murmurs. “You have... no idea what that does to a child. The family who’d first fostered me had given me back when I was three because they were expecting a child of their own. I never understood why they couldn’t have both me and their child.” She stares into the distance, seemingly oblivious to Regina’s inner turmoil. “One of my foster fathers claimed he knew why I never got adopted. I was ugly, I was too old, I was dumb, wild, disobedient. He had over a year to repeat it, beat it into me, and for an insecure, abandoned kid, it didn’t take a lot to believe it. His words got stuck in my head because there was nobody to counter them. I spent my time alone, mulled over his words, and in the end, I just started to believe it.” She smiled painfully. “When I ran away from them, I had begun to project my self-hate on others because it was easier than to deal with the disgust I felt for myself. I hated everyone, but in the end, I hated myself the most. Sounds familiar?” She smirks at Regina, but it’s not a happy smirk. 

And yes. Regina feels her insides tighten up. It does sound familiar. “I hated my foster families," Emma continues, "the social workers, my classmates. My hate spiraled me into a life of petty crime and, eventually, led me to Neal,” Emma continues, voice toneless. She laughs humorlessly. “And in the end, he got me pregnant and in jail.”  
  
Regina shivers. The loneliness, radiating from Emma’s story, is far too similar to her own. There’s a big lump in her throat, suffocating her, but she can’t seem to swallow it away. Tentatively, she reaches out a hand to Emma, touching her arm, and Emma sighs.

“Giving up Henry was the hardest I ever had to do,” Emma barely whispers. There’s a hiccup in her voice and Regina looks up. Emma’s eyes shine with tears but she smiles bravely. “I wanted to give him his best chance,” she continues, “And I realized with my whole being that I wasn’t it. I hated myself, I hated the world, I couldn’t let someone so pure be violated, I didn’t want him to loathe me, to turn into me. I experienced my darkest moments in prison, in prison. I started to hurt myself. Because physical pain was easier to deal with than all of the emotional suffering and because I felt I deserved the hurt for giving Henry up.” She plucks at her upper arms. Regina’s eyes are drawn to it. She sees the narrow, faint scars of cuts healed long ago, close to where her own fingers are now touching Emma’s arm. A cold shiver runs down Regina’s spine and she quickly withdraws her own hand.

Emma’s eyes seem distant, lost in her own past. The blonde rubs her arms as if the memories itch. “When I got out, things didn’t get any better. It took a bail bonds person tracking me down when I fled Phoenix, to return some of my self-worth. It’s kind of a long story, but mainly, it took _not being alone_ anymore. She stuck with me for a while, even though I kept trying to escape both her custody and her intrusive questions. She… just didn’t give up on me. She told me I wouldn’t get rid of her and she meant it.” There’s a hint of a smile around Emma’s lips as she reminisces, but her eyes darken right after. “Once, after a pretty dark episode in which I…” She cuts herself off, but her hand mindlessly wanders to a scar on her lower arm. “She sat me down, cleaned me up, told me that the world didn’t care about me, so I better would. Because if I didn’t, I was better off dead anyway. And it made me realize that I didn’t want to die. ‘Then don’t,’ she said. 'Some people lose their lives before they die. But you can still take it back," was something else that she told me. And she stayed until she couldn’t anymore. But I finally had someone on my side, and I was able to heal.” Emma blinks, arms fall limply along her body as she returns to the present. 

Regina breathes shallowly, feels how the guilt settles in her chest once more. Her eyes wander over the thin scars - she vaguely remembers seeing them before, but hasn’t given their backstory much thought. Now she does. Because if she hadn’t threatened Snow’s child so many years ago, Emma wouldn’t have gone through that hell in the first place. She was the reason Emma had had to live through all of that, she scolds herself. Her brow furrows. Part of her wants to reach out, touch Emma’s arm again in… maybe in support but she has no right at all to do so after everything that’s happened. After everything she’s put her through.

“Stop it.”

Regina blinks, snaps out of her own downward spiral. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t punish yourself. You don’t get to pile feelings of guilt on guilt, Regina. Stop it.” 

Regina shakes her head automatically and frowns, but then, Emma is the one to reach out. She grabs her shoulder and Regina looks up to her face, startled.

“That’s not the point of me telling you this. I don't need your pity, as you don't need mine. The point is…” She takes a few seconds, searching for the right words as her green eyes find brown’s. “It takes one to know one. I’m not saying that we’re the same because we’re different on so, so many levels. But that self-hate? I can recognize it anywhere. It comes off of you in nuclear waves.”

Regina scoffs, but Emma ignores it. “You can’t fix what’s happened in the past. But you can’t push it away either because it’ll… bite you in the ass in a moment you least suspect it and it will be _worse_ than before.” 

“Always so eloquent,” she murmurs. Emma smiles.

“Always. Anyway. You have to… accept it as something that you can’t change. What’s done is done, I guess.” 

Regina blinks, then snorts. Her first response is to lash out, but what Emma said before still hammers in her head. _You directed yours to the outside world._ She feels vulnerable, _seen_. 

“You always lash out when you’re hurt. But you can’t turn in circles forever, Regina,” Emma murmurs. “At some point, you’ll have to break it through.”

Regina exhales a little shaky. Thinks about burnt bean fields. Thinks about her mother, Johanna, all the faces that haunt her in her sleep every night. Thinks about a girl who couldn’t stand up against her mother, who was weak and had her lover killed. 

Thinks about the naive, scared young woman who married a king after a secret was spilled, who had no one to help her, aid her, who spiraled into the darkness because of her suffocating loneliness. Because as soon as Rumple had taken an interest in her, she’d latched onto him as if he’d been a lifeline. She shivers in disgust. 

“You are right,” Regina whispers. “I hate what I’ve allowed myself to become.” Her fingernails dig into her palms, leaving red marks. She welcomes the pain. “What if I’m beyond saving?”

“I don’t believe that.” Emma’s quiet words are filled with promise and she gently takes Regina’s hand. Unfurls her fingers and brushes her thumb featherlight over the red marks. “But it doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s about you. You need to believe there’s a chance for forgiveness.” 

Regina laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Then, there’s a short pause. She feels the familiar itch of tears behind her eyes as she looks up. Her expression is haunted.

“I don’t know how.” It sounds tortured, even by her own ears and she flinches at that. “I’m a villain, Emma. A monster. We aren’t forgiven. And there was never one who ever fully redeemed themselves. And everyone in this town will forever see me as one, no matter what I do.” 

“There you go, diving back into your black and white world view.” The words could’ve been uttered as an accusation but to Regina’s surprise, they’re not. There’s a fondness in Emma’s tone of voice that Regina’s not heard before. Emma’s gentle eyes wander over Regina and she feels how her face flushes. “I don’t see a monster, though. Just a woman who’s probably been through more than most people ever will. And I don’t know much about villains and redemption, but maybe, we should try for you being the first one? I don’t know, set an example? If you want to, I can help you.” Her eyes are so soft, it’s almost unbearable. “I’ve got your back.”

Regina snorts. The urge to lash out is so close below the surface but she desperately tries to keep it back. She’s so vulnerable right now - she hasn’t felt like this in decades and she doesn’t really know how to handle it. “You make it sound so simple,” she replies, a little cranky. Emma simply shrugs, and there’s a short pause. 

“It’s not. It’s probably the hardest thing you’ll ever do. It’s tiring. And it takes time.”

“You’re not really selling the concept, dear,” Regina mutters. 

“But,” Emma continues, sternly with a glare that tells Regina to shut up, shifting a little to reach for Regina’s other hand, too, “the most important thing is that you don’t have to do it all by yourself. You have me. And Henry. You’re not alone. Not anymore. I’ve got you.” 

Henry. He did see good in her. He also saw her at her worst, not so long ago. Her heart clenches tightly and she exhales. But Emma’s not done yet. 

“You can’t see yourself any different from the person you were back in the Enchanted Forest. But that’s not who you are anymore. I see how you fight, Regina. How you have tried to stand strong, over these past weeks, to be a better person no matter what was thrown at you. I see how you try to control the demons inside you. And I see how sometimes, you’re losing that battle. And that’s okay, too, as long as you pick up the pieces and try again.”

“Jesus, Emma,” Regina murmurs, a little taken back by the passion in Emma's voice, “Were you born this persistent or is it your mother’s influence? It almost sounds like a hope speech.” A smirk spreads across Emma’s face.

Regina shakes her head. But she does lace her fingers with Emma’s. She’s support. She’s warmth. She’s guidance. 

Then, Regina sighs. “I don’t have Henry,” she says. “He hates me.”

Emma snorts in disbelief. “Henry’s a ten-year-old boy who believes in good versus evil,” she retorts vehemently, “But he’s also your son. He’s told us time and again not to hurt you, that there’s good in you.” When Regina looks up, surprised, there’s a smile tugging at Emma’s mouth. “For what it’s worth, Henry’s never known the real Evil Queen either, no matter how hard he claims that you are still her. You’re just… a mellowed version of her. Your latest actions clearly show.”  
  
Now, Emma sounds a little smug. It ruffles Regina’s feathers. Mellowed version? “I just destroyed a field of magical beans,” Regina retorts, scoffing in disbelief. 

“Exactly,” Emma replies pointedly, squeezing Regina's hands. “Compared to burning entire villages to the ground, that’s rather mild, don’t you think? Besides,” Emma continues, “If you really _were_ the Evil Queen of way back when, you’d have snapped my neck ten times over.” Emma tilts her head, lifts a corner of her mouth in a lopsided grin. Regina realizes she’s right. 

“And as your amateur psychologist, I can safely conclude that you burned the bean field of fear, not because you were angry or because you wanted to take revenge.” 

Regina opens her mouth. Closes it again. Then, she scoffs. Emma’s right, damn it. She hates that she has to admit that Emma’s right so often today. The fear of being alone, of being locked up in a cage or left behind when everyone else returned home had been suffocating. She exhales in defeat, and Emma tightens her grip around Regina’s hands. She looks down in surprise, momentarily forgotten that Emma was still holding her. Her grip is warm. Grounds her. 

“The point is that you need to start to believe that you’ve changed. I can see it but if you don’t believe it, none of it matters. You need to… I don’t know, re-imagine yourself.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?” Sarcasm comes easy to her - always has. Especially when she feels vulnerable. “Take a long hard look in the mirror and see if I can see the sudden change?”  
  
Emma shrugs, a tiny smile lining her mouth. “Well, if that works for you,” she says, slightly amused. “You have to… face your demons, I guess. But the good part is, and I’ll say it again and again until you're sick and tired of it… You don’t have to do it alone. I got you.”

Regina’s mind is in turmoil, her eyes shift through the room before they settle back on Emma. She doesn’t know if she can. If she deserves any of this.  
  
But she finds that she really wants to try.

But when she wants to reply, Emma’s phone starts to buzz. Emma takes it out of her pocket, reads the message sent to her and sighs. “Okay, um, so, listen. The bean field is - understandably - going to create a gigantic uproar with my parents and the dwarves and probably the entire town.” Regina tilts her head, doesn’t say anything. Emma sighs. “No matter what the reasons or intentions, it was still a shitty thing to do.” She shrugs, finishes her coffee and slips on her coat. Regina wants to retort, wants to defend herself, but Emma’s right - what’s done is done. And they’ve said all they can say about it. There will probably be consequences, but it’s nothing Regina can’t handle. It’s a realization that strikes her with a little bit of wonder. 

“I suppose we’ll find out what the consequences will be,” Regina retorts. But she sure as hell isn’t going to sit and wait for those morons to come and pick her up, lock her inside a jail cell and throw away the key.

“I have to go meet my parents. But maybe…” She tilts her head a little narrows her eyes and intently watches Regina's response when she slowly starts to talk again. “Do you want to meet up with me and Henry at the park around four? I don’t know, maybe I can pick up some take-away dinner from Granny’s and we can eat together?”

Regina’s eyes grow wide in surprise. Her heart flutters, a warmth spreads from her belly to her limbs and she even can't make her usual comments about the bad quality of Eugenia Lucas’ food. “Yes, of course I want to. I’ll be there,” she replies, maybe a little too eager but she doesn’t care. She’ll get to see Henry, have dinner with him. Just them and their son. Regina’s mouth curves into a smile as they both move towards the front door. 

She licks her lips as Emma throws her an awkward smile and she notices how Emma’s eyes fall to her lips. She holds her breath, but takes a step back. Does she want to kiss Emma Swan again? God, yes. But now is not the time. She needs time to think. About what Emma told her, about what has happened today, without another complication. The situation’s complicated enough as it is. “Bye,” Emma murmurs and hurries out of the door, as if she, too, wants to avoid the awkwardness.

They’re both idiots, Regina sighs.

And when Regina closes the door after Emma, she realizes it’s been the first time she has thought about Henry as being _theirs._

_~*~_

It’s not good to be alone, Regina remembers Emma saying. Her first excitement about seeing Henry later that day has morphed into fright soon after Emma left. She fears his rejection, the wariness on his face, the permanent scowl he’s been carrying around her for so long, ever since he found out that he was adopted. And with Emma’s departure, doubt has started to trickle into Regina’s mind. She scoffs at herself. Intrinsically believes that she doesn’t deserve anything Emma offers her.

She’s mulled over Emma’s revelation after the blonde had left her house. And no matter how often Emma will tell Regina not to beat herself up over condemning her to this loveless, dark life, Regina always will. 

Emma has no idea what’s happened to Regina in her past. Has no way of knowing the mental and physical abuse that was a part of her rise as the Evil Queen, the way she’s lashed out in revenge and how many lives she’s taken. She wonders if Emma’s belief in her falters if she knows. Because even after Emma’s revelation that it takes one to know one, Regina’s still not entirely convinced that Emma will stick around when she knows the ugly truth of Regina’s past actions.The bean field was nothing compared to the horrors she’s spread.

And yet, Regina hopes she does stay. Because, and she doesn’t know why - maybe _because_ she’s been so annoyingly persistent - she wants to believe that Emma’s right. That she does have a chance. That she’s not alone.

That she’ll have _her._

She scoffs at herself. She’s come a long way from trying to drive Emma out of town, and recalls a conversation with Emma that feels like a lifetime ago.  
  
_Do you trust me?_

_Not a chance in hell._

She didn’t, back then. But somehow, Emma has become a nagging voice in her head, urging her to do better. And she’s starting to rely on her. Place some trust in her. Which is a foreign feeling in itself, because the only one Regina’s ever relied on is herself, despite how she feels about her own persona. 

It’s another thing to feel awkward about.

She sighs and lightly shakes her head. Quickly puts the mugs away in the dishwasher, marches to the hall. She can’t be inside the house on her own. Her mind won’t stop racing. 

She’s too pent up to stay inside the house and decides to go for a walk, just to rid herself of some restless energy and to clear her mind. Even takes her phone with her and maybe because Emma's unwavering belief has rubbed off on her, she calls Archie, who is first surprised, then eager to talk to her.

"I'm sorry about what's happened," he says to her and she's stunned, momentarily stops walking.

"Why?" Regina asks, suspicious. "You didn't do anything wrong now, did you?"

"I... Truly believed you were making progress." If anyone else would've talked to her like this she would probably have deemed it condescending, but Archie's tone is gentle. Understanding. "When we were arguing... I had wanted to help you. But you were right. When Emma came to see me if it was a good idea to invite you to that party, I should've told you that she'd done so. I feel that our argument was what led everyone to you."

Regina blinks and starts walking again. She doesn't know in what weird alternate reality she has stepped into. "I appreciate it," she slowly says, "But we both know in the end they would have come for me anyway." 

"Perhaps," Archie says, voice neutral. "Anyway, I'm happy you called me. Do you perhaps want to make an appointment?" 

Regina swallows something from her throat. Forgiveness is fucking hard, Emma had said, and yes, it is. "I suppose," she answers him slowly after a short pause.

They decide on meeting the next morning and Regina can’t believe that she’s just added more weight to her own anxiety.

But it has to be good anxiety, she decides when she enters Granny for a coffee. She’s met with suspicion - word about what the Evil Queen’s done now travels fast in this magical town - and she glares right back, not backing down an inch. She still has some status to uphold, and she smirks contently as they quickly turn their eyes away. Fools. All of them. It’s petty, perhaps, but satisfying.

She thanks Ruby for the coffee and even leaves a tip that leaves the she-wolf wide-eyed. She’s never left a tip before. It’ll probably fuel some gossip along the way. Why the hell not.

After days and days of dull gray autumn weather, today is surprisingly nice, Regina notices, the warm cup wrapped in her gloved hands. The sun, albeit having lost a lot of strength, lights up the streets of Storybrooke. The town looks better in sunlight. Or maybe she just feels like that because of -

No, she doesn’t allow her mind to go there. Her cheeks turn pink and it's not because of the cold.

Deciding on going to the docks, she changes her direction. Henry was right. She always goes there when she’s upset, or when she just needs to calm down. There’s something about the waves, how they come to shape, the way they cobble, hit the docks, that is mesmerizing. The constant sound of the water numbs her own thoughts and she likes it. She can just listen. Empty her mind. So when she arrives she takes place at the farthest bench. For a few minutes, she simply sips her coffee and stares at the waves, her mind going mercifully blank. Even indulges herself and lies down on her side, face towards the water. She watches the waves, knees a little pulled up, back pushed against the back of the bench. She smiles - it’s something she’s never done before. She always wanted to uphold a certain image, but now, she simply doesn’t care.

But then, - seconds? minutes? she doesn’t know how long she’s been here -, raised voices pull her out of it. She perks her ears, the first voice unfamiliar. The second one… all too familiar. The soft breeze carries the words and she ponders about getting up, making her presence known.

“I’m just saying, Neal. Her behavior is… shifty, at best. And she has a list of fairy tale characters and who they are in Storybrooke..” Emma’s voice is urgent. “if that list gets into the wrong hands, gets spread outside of Storybrooke…” 

“Emma, I helped her make that list. You told me to inform her if I really wanted to have a future with her and I did. And I have to say, she’s very accepting of it all. It’s not easy. For neither of us. She’s trying to deal with it, for me.” He sounds a little exasperated. Neal. The guy holding a sword against her throat. Regina frowns, decides on hiding out a little longer. 

“I’m just saying, you should be careful,” Emma says, her tone more soothing now, but the warning still adamant in her voice. 

“What are you, jealous?” Neal retorts with a scoff. The hair on Regina’s neck rises and she is surprised with herself. Neal’s implication leaves her riled up and she is uncomfortable, because even when Emma furiously denies it, it leaves _Regina_ with the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy, instead. She scoffs at herself. Apart from their… togetherness, this morning, there’s nothing between them.

Right? Her chest tightens.

“Listen, it’s no big deal. The list helps her understand. And my father’s better now, so we’ll leave shortly, anyway. This place is dangerous, Emma. If you’re wise, you leave too.”

“I’m needed here,” Emma simply replies. It somewhat warms Regina’s heart, even though Emma doesn’t elaborate on why. She’ll never admit out loud that she needs Emma, but maybe she does.

“Right, right. You’re the ‘savior’,” Neal says, a little mocking, “Whatever the hell that means. You’re not responsible for everyone’s happy endings. You’re not responsible for defeating the Evil Queen.”

Regina blinks, feels the familiar uproar of anger inside her belly before Emma speaks up again.

“I’m not defeating anyone, Neal,” Emma sighs. “And I don’t care about destiny. I’ll create my own.” Regina can just picture how she runs her hand through her hair in frustration. 

“Be that as it may, Emma, you have to admit that this is not a safe environment for Henry.” Neal sighs. “And I… I just found him. I don’t want to be separated from him anymore.” 

Regina’s heart skips a beat. Agony starts to filter through her mind. She does not like the way the conversation is going. And neither is Emma. She holds her breath.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Emma snaps.

She hears a sigh. “Neal? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Emma sounds angrier now.

“I never knew he existed, because you kept him that information from me.” It’s an unfair accusation and he must realize it. Regina’s eyes widen in disgust, loyal to the savior who scoffs at him.

“You had me thrown in fucking jail and disappeared. How the hell was I supposed to inform you?” Emma nearly chokes on her anger.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want him in my life. Emma, Tamara and I… we’re getting married soon. And we’ll be filing for full custody. Storybrooke’s not the right place for my son.”

A cold hand wraps around Regina’s heart and she inhales sharply as her ears start to ring. She feels how her chest gets tighter, how it becomes harder to breathe. She can’t be a bystander anymore, and gets up from the bench abruptly.

“The hell you are.” Regina stands up, eyeing him ferociously, upper lip curled in a snarl. Both Emma and Neal, standing two benches over, recoil in surprise. “You’ve been a father, what, for five minutes? I’ve cared for Henry ever since he was a baby. You’re not taking him from me. You have _no right._ ”

Neal squares his shoulders, raises his chin. “We’ll see what the judge thinks of that,” Neal tells her. He looks at her, defiantly. The _audacity_. "A child needs his father. Surely," he says, turning back to Emma and disregarding Regina completely, "you understand that."

"There's not a judge in this world-" Emma starts, but Regina interrupts, scowling.

“I will stop you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” Her magic frantically bubbles under her skin, eager to choke the life out of Rumple’s spawn in front of her threatening to take away her son. He's the offspring of the fucking Dark One, who is he to threaten her?

“Regina,” Emma urgently starts and it sounds like a plea, a reminder of what they talked about, and Regina jerks her head in Emma's direction. _I got you,_ she had said, but Rumple had screwed her over again and again, and apparently, it runs in the family. Panic flashes through her chest, she knows it's visible on her face when she meets Emma's eyes, it feels like she’s being split in two. Her fingers twitch, curl and uncurl - she wants to end it right here and now but Emma’s gaze stops her. the blonde steps forwards, hand raised to touch her. But Regina's panic over maybe losing Henry has turned into magic wanting to punish, wanting to hurt the man who's threatening to take her son away. A purple haze clouds her vision and she lifts her arms to teleport out before she does something she might regret at that very moment.

Bristling with fury - got damn it, can she ever win? - she reappears in her study and before the purple clouds have evaporated completely, she marches through the room. Doesn’t look at the couch that holds too many memories now, but instead, makes her way towards the cupboard at the side. She yanks it open, her hand digging into a little chest containing the trigger in front of her, and then she hesitates. She sees her reflection in the glass of the door, haunted, panicked. The need to inflict pain courses through her.

 _I got you._ Emma's voice echoes through her mind and she grits her teeth. It is like she can’t do anything right now - she can’t fight for her son, she can’t fix the problem. She lowers de diamond, back into the box and growls in frustration. 

_Fuck._

Her phone rings. She doesn’t have to look down to see who it is. Closing the cupboard, he takes the phone and stares at Emma’s name for a few seconds, before answering the call and lifting the phone to her ear. 

“Regina, where are you?” Emma immediately starts. “Let me-”

“He’s _not_ going to take my son away,” Regina snaps back, disregarding the question as she hears some shuffling behind her, and she turns around - only to find Hook leaning against the door. His unexpected presence startles her, but she is so angry that he hopefully didn't notice. “And you may inform him that he’s not dead because of you. Make sure he leaves town, Miss Swan, or else I will _personally_ remove him and it’s not going to be pretty.” 

“Regina, think-” But Regina ends the call and plants her hands on her hips.

“Hello, love,” the pirate smirks darkly. “Still having pesky Savior problems?”

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” she barks at the pirate. A cocky smile appears around his lips. “Why, Your Majesty,” he drawls, “That’s no way to greet an old friend now, is it?”  
  
“You’re no friend of mine,” Regina hisses. “Is there a point in you being here or are you just going to ruin my floor with your dirty boots?”

He pushes himself from the doorpost and takes a few steps forward. “Well, I got back in town and heard about your mother. Just here to express my condolences. She was a delight to work with. Whenever she didn’t double-cross you.” Regina’s lip curls up in a sneer as she meets his challenging eyes. 

“Right. Well, if that’s what you came for, get the hell out of my house.”

He takes another step forward, waves with his hook and opens his mouth to say something, but her eye falls on something he wears around his wrist. It’s a leather bracelet and it’s a very, very familiar one. “Where did you get that?” 

Hook follows Regina’s gaze to his wrist. “What, this old piece of leather?”

“It’s my mother’s.” Her eyes narrow, and with the pent-up frustration already bubbling under her skin, this is enough to send her fingers sparking. “Where did you get that?” she repeats, voice dark.

“Cora gave it to me,” he retorts with a frown. “In the Enchanted Forest.” He wraps his hand around his wrist, protective about the bracelet. And maybe it’s because she doesn’t like him, because of what’s just happened at the docks, maybe she just wants to take some control again - she holds out her hand. 

“And it belonged to my mother. Give it back,” she demands.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a piece of cowhide,” he grumbles, but takes it off anyway. Throws it her way. Satisfied, she sighs.

“It might be just a piece of cowhide to you, pirate,” she tells him, before she slips it around her wrist, “for me, it’s something that reminds me of her.” She gently caresses the embroidery briefly. The satisfaction she gets out of it seems a little trivial with everything that’s going on, but at least it’s _something._

Then, she moves her eyes back to the pirate. He smiles smugly. “Didn’t I just tell you to leave my property?”  
  
“Oh, yes, your Majesty, you did. But I can’t, not without what I came for.” His eyes flash to the cupboard and she furrows her brow as she momentarily follows his gaze. 

“Enlighten me,” she sneers, a little anxious at the same time but she'll be damned if she'd show him. “What did you come for, then?”

“Why, love, you, of course!” he chipperly answers, spreading his arms as if he’s inviting her to a hug.

Her eyes grow wide in surprise and instinctively, she takes a step back. But she suddenly senses a movement behind her. She whirls around, extends a hand but something heavy hits her head and instantly, everything goes black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW / Graphic depiction of torture

Regina slowly comes to. She blinks several times but can’t really focus. Someone taps to her cheek and she turns away from it because it hurts - the touch goes straight to the back of her head that hurts like… someone smashed something into it. She tries to look up, blinks rapidly as a face enters her vision. Her eyes are in and out of focus. And then, when a whiff of alcoholic stench hits her nose, she realizes who it is before she can see him. “You,” she rasps, voice hoarse from just waking up.

“Startling, aren’t I?” Hook smirks, darkly. “Some people say striking.” Regina has no time for his antics. Her head pounds, it feels as if her head was split open. She automatically lifts her arm to touch where it hurts but finds she can’t. 

She tries again, brow furrowing - even that hurts. Hears some rattling and lifts her groggy head to see why she can’t move her arms, but even before she vaguely sees the leather cuffs around her wrists she already figures it out.

She’s restrained. “Thank you for playing your part in my plan, love,” Hook continues, good-natured. 

“Plan?” Regina nearly chokes on the word, blinking to get her vision cleared. Her eyes flick through the room, frantically trying to find a point of recognition. There is none. She’s captured in some sort of basement. Bright lamps hang above her, illuminate her body, and the table she's chained to. The only other light sources are two narrow windows high up in one of the grey, concrete walls. There’s a machine standing a little away. Little meters and wires attached to it. It looks old.

If Hook has noticed her eyes wandering through the room, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“It wasn’t all mine, of course. I had a little help.” From behind Hook, a balding man appears. He’s taller than average. And a woman, too, dark-skinned, black curly hair. She doesn’t know them. Has never seen him them, but she instantly realizes who they must be because she knows everyone in this town. He must be the one who crashed his car into Storybrooke and was hospitalized for a while. She remembers mentioning him, weeks ago. 

And she must be Neal’s fiance. Neal’s words come rushing back to her. This is the woman he plans to marry. 

Oh, god. _Henry_. She pulls on the restraints reflexively, but they don’t give way.

He makes a grand gesture to both of them. “Allow me to introduce my companions, Your Majesty,” he mocks, bowing for her. She grits her teeth but doesn’t say anything, as he moves to stand between the man and the woman, all three of them looking down on her. It’s humiliating, to say the least, being trapped like an animal. Being observed like an experiment in progress.

“We’ve bonded a lot, them and me. This one freed me from storage, where her fiance had stashed me a little while before.” He waves at Tamara, who smirks contently, nods in a mocking gesture. “Tamara, here, smuggled me onto my own ship and brought me right back here into Storybrooke.” 

He turns, gesturing to the man. “He and I, we’ve bonded a lot since he came to Storybrooke. And I’ve got to say, he’s grown on me.” He pats the balding man on his shoulder. “Especially because he has a way with magic.” 

He smirks, gesturing to her wrist. “Or, should I say, a way against magic?” 

At the same time he speaks the word, she tries to reach her magic from the inside. 

But she can’t. She frowns. Her eyes look up at Hook, then flick to the man carrying a smug smirk on his face, and then back to Hook when realization hits.

Her magic is nullified. It’s almost like when Rumple returned the magic to Storybrooke, but when it worked differently. Only now, it doesn’t work at all.

Hook’s eyes linger on her wrist and with a little lift of her head, she can follow his line of sight. The only thing she sees apart from the cuffs keeping her down is… her mother’s bracelet? Confused, she turns her gaze back to Hook.

“You were so… adamant in getting your mother’s wristband back, it was almost too easy. He rigged it with something that blocks your magic.” He nods at the man. “Impressive, really.” The man smirks. Panic washes over her in waves. Her breath accelerates, and it feels like her chest is getting tighter. Her nostrils flare while she tries to steady her breathing. She can’t have a panic attack. Not here and now. So she regulates her breathing. Inhales through her nose. Exhales through her barely opened lips. The last thing she wants is for them to pick up on her fear. 

Her eyes, now fully focused, shoot from one man to the other as she instinctively tries to get up, but she can’t, of course, being restrained to the table. “Who the hell are you?” she snaps at the man next to Hook, her voice still a little crooked. She tries to wring her arm out of the wristband.

“I came here as Greg,” the man says, stepping forward. He taps on the bracelet. “And you can stop doing that. It won’t help.”

Hook bends over until she can feel his rum-stained breath on her face, and she automatically turns away from it. “You tricked me,” she hisses, and he hums in agreement. “Impressive, ain’t it love?” He waves with his hook. “It’s like… magic.” His rum-induced breath wafts over her face and she closes her eyes in disgust.  
  
“Not magic,” Greg steps in, pointing a finger at her wrist. “Actually, this is something much better -- science.” 

Regina frowns, she doesn’t follow. Her mind is still somewhat groggy, she doesn’t have her usual focus even though she has her vision back. And the back of her head hurts like a bitch which makes it harder to concentrate. But she has to. Her life may depend on it.

“The leather might come off, but inside, are the toughest metals and machinery known to man, and right now, they’re counteracting every magic bone in your body.” 

She knows he tells the truth because she feels how the bracelet works against her. What she doesn’t understand is _why_ these two people she has never seen in her life before, would team up with Hook. Hell, she doesn’t even know why _he_ is teaming up with them. What’s more, before she was taken, before they knocked her out, Hook said they needed her. For what?

She pulls on her restraints again. Memories of long gone start to trickle in her mind, memories long pushed away into the very depths of her soul. She hates being constricted in her movements. Her mother restrained her so many times, kept her locked up, magically or not, whenever she disobeyed. And during her marriage - No. She closes her eyes, focuses on her anger instead of her panic. The familiar rage is stronger than her fears.

They are going to pay for this.

“Are you going to bore me further to death or are you going to tell me what you need me for?” she snarls at him. Greg doesn’t even flinch. 

“I came here to find my father. You’re going to tell me where he is.” 

Regina scoffs. “I don’t even know who you are, let alone your father. And I am hardly interested in helping you get anything you want.” 

He lifts his hand. There’s a braided leather keychain dangling from his index finger.

And she instantly realizes she _does_ know who he is. She narrows her eyes, her lips curl into a smirk.

“Well, well,” she drawls, “Look who’s all grown up now, Owen.” She sees how a tiny muscle clenches in his jaw and she takes pleasure in the fact that she’s already found a weak spot. “You were so cute as a little boy. What’s happened?”

“You did,” he snaps, and she sees how he tenses. Good. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“I moisturize,” Regina hums with a smirk, holding his gaze. “You should try it, sometimes.” 

Hook frowns a little confused and his eyes flick from Greg/Owen to Regina. “You’ve been here before?”  
  
Greg’s eyes flick from Regina to Hook. “I have,” he simply says. 

She sighs dramatically. If she could've waved dismissively with her hand, she would have, but since she's restrained an eye-roll will have to do. “Your father left town shortly after you did,” she says, closing her eyes, gazing through her lashes. Her attitude is a mask. Frantically, she digs up the memories she has of little Owen and his father. She needs to buy time.

“You’re lying.” He turns back to face her, eyes flickering with anger. “You are going to tell me where he is.”

Regina raises her eyebrows and hums in discontent. “I don’t think there’s much to tell. You left. He left. End of a very dull tale.”

“Oh, but I never thought you’d volunteer the information willingly,” he says, and his eyes turn into something sinister. He turns, grabs a table, and when she tilts her head, she can see an impressively looking machine with a few small meters. It looks old and barbaric. “In fact, I was counting on it that you didn’t.”

“I already told you, he left town.” Her eyes leave her face. Flick through the room again. Hook and Tamara have withdrawn a little. Apparently, they are granting Greg his moment with her.

“Yet he never came to find his only son.” He leans over her, stares directly in her face. "Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?" he breathes into her face. She scrunches up her nose and ignores his question. Then, he sticks something to her temples. When he moves down to stick something on her arms as well, she lifts to see what he’s doing. And she frowns when she sees he's placing electrodes on her skin. 

She scoffs. “Is this supposed to frighten me?”  
  
“It should,” Tamara says instead of Greg. “Very much so.” She steps forward while Greg sticks another electrode on Regina’s body, and switches a button. The machine comes to life. Meters start to move, the machine starts whirring and beeping. She flips a couple of switches. Regina can hear the electricity buzzing. Automatically, her head turns towards the origin of the sound and she winces when her battered head shifts over the bed, stretcher, whatever the hell they tied her to.

Greg has started to connect the electrodes to the machine with colored wires. Regina can’t help but swallow a lump in her throat. Her palms start to sweat and she curls them into fists because she is starting to realize what he’s doing. “And yes, it’s going to be _really_ unpleasant,” Greg adds, “exactly _how_ unpleasant, well, that depends on you.” He attaches the final cable to her index finger and leans over until his nose almost touches hers. Gently, he strikes the hair from her forehead. Tucks it behind her ear, which makes her jerk her head back - God, the pain that causes. And then, he smiles. “However, don’t make it too easy. Do make it as unpleasant as possible. I like to see you suffer.” 

Regina rolls her eyes. The stickers and wires feel unpleasant against her skin, the cables are tugging on it. Greg turns and leans over to check the machine. Tamara leans against the wall next to it, waiting for the show to get started. Hook stands at the other side of the table.

“What do you get out of it?” she snarks at him, and he smiles. “Well,” he answers, “as soon as they’re done with you, we’re paying ol’ Rumple a visit. And as soon as he’s ridden of his magic, a slow and painful death awaits him.” 

Ridden of magic? Like, with another bracelet? But Regina doesn’t have time to think as Greg turns, flips another switch on the machine which causes it to whir and moan even more, she hears the electrical humming and it sends a shiver down her back. “Now, where is my father?” Greg asks her directly. Regina frowns, closes her eyes, and turns her face away, fixing her gaze at the light shining down on her. She hears a click, the crackling of electricity, and then, her body’s invaded by powerful surges that arch her back off the table. All her muscles contract at the same time. She grits her teeth involuntarily, moans in pain as the electric waves crash through her body. But she’s endured torture, and she’ll endure this. Her chest feels as if it wants to split open, her legs are tensed, cramping and convulsing, her fingers curl into fists, nails digging into her palms.

And then, just as quick as it started, it’s over. She gasps, chokes on her own breath, and coughs violently, leaving her breath raspy. She heaves in gulps of air, forces her body to relax. She’s endured many of her mother’s punishments as a child, many of them worse than this. She can take this.

She _has_ to. 

Her eyes fly to Tamara, whose eyes are hidden in the dark. Small gems that flicker, beads that see all. Regina reminds herself that Henry’s in danger if she fails. She can’t have Henry in Tamara’s care. God knows what she’ll do to him. Greg turns again, the movement sends a chill over her sweaty arms and head.

“Where. Is. My. Father.” Greg gives a load to each of the words in the sentence. 

“Go to hell,” she rasps and he sighs impatiently.

"You first," he snaps and turns the switch before Regina has the chance to brace herself and a cry escapes her lips. 

“Better tell them, Your Majesty,” Hook says, face above hers. She feels how her body convulses, how her throat tightens, and her shoulders cramp. And then, she mercifully blacks out, sinking away in the blissful darkness. 

~*~

When she regains consciousness, the machine is turned off. She gasps a shuddering breath as she feels her sore muscles tense up. The electricity has cramped every part of her body. She blinks frantically, but her eyelids feel heavy and the lights above the table she’s still strapped to hurt her eyes. Squinting, she tries to take in her surroundings. But there’s nothing she recognizes. Light streams in from the same narrow, high windows she saw before. Daytime. The daylight illuminates the grey concrete walls. Some of them have cracks, showing they haven’t been maintained for a while. They must be in an abandoned building, but she can’t figure out which one. Her eyes drift onwards and fall on the machine she’s wired to. It is turned off and out of her reach. 

She has no idea how long she’s been out. Her limbs are sore and it feels like her tongue is stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. Her head is still pounding. And she’s cold. She shivers, not just because her muscles are contracting.

“Ah, there you are,” a rich female voice says. “For a moment I thought we’d lost you. But then again,” she continues smoothly, “I guess you should never underestimate the Evil Queen, huh?” The dark-skinned woman steps into view and sits down next to her. She has a sponge in her hand with which she wets Regina’s lips. She can’t help it, she bites into it and sucks it empty before Tamara yanks it away. She wipes her arms, cheeks, forehead as if she’s… washing Regina. Regina doesn’t understand why.

Regina opens her mouth to say something, but it takes more effort than she thought it would. Her first attempt sounds like a squeak, but she tries again. “What do you want?” she brings out. 

“Your magic.” The answer comes immediately. “I don’t care much for Greg’s father. But magic, that I can work with. Do you know how much magical items are selling for? You just have to find the right corners of the internet.” She smirks. 

No, Regina has no idea. “You’re in it for profit?” she asks in disbelief. She’s disgusted by the idea, knows how dangerous some of these objects are. In inexperienced hands, they might be lethal. And not just because of their magical abilities.

Tamara shrugs. “Well yeah, partly. But I’ve been dabbling with magic before. Having a place where I can momentarily use it freely is a delight.” 

Regina blinks. She can hardly comprehend any of it. “Magic… it doesn’t exist outside of Storybrooke,” she brings out. “Those items are useless out there.”

“Ah, but you see, they aren’t.” There’s an exciting shine in Tamara’s eyes. As if she’s on the verge of sharing a very important secret. “Because there _is_ magic outside of Storybrooke. You just need to find it. And I’ve found plenty already.” 

Regina’s mind works as fast as she can. “How… how do you know...” Her tongue tastes like leather and she tries to wet her lips.

“About magic here? Greg showed me. But magic and I go way back. I had a foster mother who really liked to dabble in magic. You didn’t think Storybrooke is the first time that magic has crossed over, did you? She’s taught me the basics, but there was never much to work with. Being here... it's been a feast so far.” She sighs in delight. 

“That’s impossible,” Regina murmurs. Agony starts to rise within. There’s no possibility that there’s magic outside of Storybrooke. She cursed them all to the land without magic, did she not?

“There’s not a lot of it. Magic, out there,” Tamara tells her in all honesty. “And not a lot of people know it exists. But I’ve had a lifetime to perfect searching for it. Sniffing it out. And when I met Greg online… well, let’s say our interests aligned.” 

Tamara leans forward. Studies her. Narrows her eyes, frowns mockingly. “I have to say, you don’t look like an Evil Queen right now. I just can’t seem to figure out why Snow White hasn’t defeated you ages ago. It wasn’t so hard to capture you.” She tilts her head. Her near-black eyes meet Regina’s. “Though your stamina, that’s something admirable. Guess you gave her a run for her money, huh?” 

“Can you please shut up?” Regina says with a crooked voice, rolling her eyes. She needs to process the information that Tamara offered so freely. “I’m bored already.” 

The door opens while she speaks and Greg enters. He hears her last words and smiles at her. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He walks to the machine and flips it back on. Regina’s stomach drops, her body tenses in suspense immediately. She swallows thickly.

Tamara gets up and zips her hoodie. “I’m going to check in with Neal. See if word has already gotten out that Regina’s missing. And I’ll make sure the pirate doesn’t do anything stupid.” Greg nods and Tamara leaves. Then, he turns towards Regina. 

“It’s easier, you know, when you just give me what I want. Be a little more, I don’t know, cooperative.” He smiles, leans a little closer. “It’d be a pity if your heart would stop before I have what I want from you.”

Regina turns her head away from him. She remembers the little boy, those first few days Storybrooke came into existence. At first, she’d been anxious, seeing him and his father in town. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But Regina loves children, always has, despite everything. She loved having little Owen around, his carefree nature, the love he gave so freely. The love she hadn’t felt in such a long time. He had given her a braided leather key chain. She still has it in the mansion, safely tucked away with the rest of her valuable possessions. Little Owen had made her feel more than an Evil Queen. Had made her feel human. 

Until his father became anxious, got spooked, and wanted to leave town in a hurry, and all she’d wanted to do is to stop them from leaving. She’d been too late to get to the boy, who’d run over the town line where she couldn’t follow.

That boy has long since disappeared. Greg’s cold eyes hold nothing of the carefree kid she once knew. Like Tamara, he holds the sponge. Dips it into the bucket of what that’s apparently next to the table. Wets her forehead.

“Let’s see if we can get you an extra incentive,” he murmurs. “Water guides electricity really well.” And then he’s flipping a small wheel and another switch before hitting the button to activate the electricity. She thought she was prepared, but she knows she isn’t when another surge enters her body, spreads from head to toe, tenses every muscle in her body. 

It lasts for a couple of seconds and she’s wheezing in pain when he lets go of the button. She feels like throwing up, gasps, and whines.

She has to hold on. “You have no idea,” she chokes out, weakly, “who you are dealing with.” 

“Actually,” he says, rather chipper which makes a shiver run down Regina’s rigid spine, pointing a finger towards her, “No. You have no idea who _you’re_ dealing with.”

Regina chuckles hoarsely while inhaling deeply, nearly desperate for air. “A couple of fools,” she rasps, “who are in over their heads. Dabbling with and stealing magic.” She clicks with her tongue in disgust to rattle him, and it clearly works because his back snaps upright.

“Oh, I don’t have the intention of stealing anything. That’s Tamara’s department,” Greg enlightens her, jerking her thumb into the direction in which the woman has just disappeared. “I don’t care about any of that. If anything, I’d rather destroy it. But if she wants trinkets? If she wants to play around with magic? She can have whatever she wants, as long as I get my father back.” He shrugs. “I don’t care if this town crashes and burns after - which it probably will, when we're done with it.”

Regina scoffs in disbelief at his implication. “You think you can destroy magic? You’re a fool.” 

“Ah, now, that might be so,” Greg says, leaning over her while digging something out of his back pocket. His free hand softly caresses Regina’s cheek and she jerks her head back in disgust, away from the touch. “See this?" he hums, bringing the object closer to her face, "With Tamara’s expertise, we quickly figured out what it was for. In fact, it only takes one to destroy all of Storybrooke. Including its magic.” 

Regina keeps her face blank, but her heart sinks when she recognizes the black, perfectly shaped diamond in Greg’s hand. Remembers her own hesitation in her study, putting it back into the wooden chest. Remembers Hook standing behind her, leaning to the doorpost.

He must have seen her putting it back into the box. With the trigger in Greg’s hands, the town is doomed and she can’t do anything to stop it. She was a fool. Her fear of losing Henry had gotten the better of her - and now it might be the reason that she will lose him forever. Her emotions and impulsiveness have led them to find one of the most dangerous magical items in town.

If there is a way to fix this, she has to find it. She needs to stall, whatever it takes - she needs to keep them busy so they won’t have time to activate it.

She blinks slowly. She can’t give up. She must hold on as long as she can.

"Tamara just told me she revels in the magic she can use. She hardly wants to destroy it," she says.

Greg chuckles. "Well. We're going to take what we want from this town. Hook wants Mr. Gold. Tamara wants magical nick-nacks. I want my father. After we get what we want, what better way to make sure you lot won't come after us than to blow this down right off the map? This eases a lot of our problems later. But first things first. Tell me where my father is."

Regina laughs throatily, breathes shallowly. "I have no idea."

His hand slams against the red button on the machine.

Electricity crackles and hums and when the electrical energy enters her battered body once more, Regina grunts in pain. She’s powerless, can’t fight back, can’t do anything else but to endure. But she has to hold on. Her brain is being fried, her heart’s beating irregularly and she desperately clings to those who’ve ever believed in her. Henry believed there’s good in her. She doesn’t know if he still does, but she needs to believe that. Archie is eager enough to welcome her back into his practice. He believes she can be a better person, that he can help her.

Emma. 

When she groans and whimpers because the electricity gets the better of her, her strength is quickly waning, she focuses on the green eyes she sees in her mind. The eyes that force her to try and fight back, even if she’s physically running out of time. She has to hold on, has to keep trying - she cries out in agony. She pictures Emma with that hideous red jacket, her lopsided grin, her confident eyes. Eyes that say _I believe you,_ and _you’re not alone_ , sparkle with warmth for their son, for which she needs to fight because they can _never_ get their dirty hands on them, but Emma’s vision fades as the electricity intensifies. She hears herself scream, her body convulsed violently, and then, everything’s gone. 

~*~

“Time to go.” 

“Wait, what?”  
  
“They’ve found us,” Tamara hisses. 

Regina starts to wake, faintly registers their talk.

“Who?”  
  
“Emma and Neal are up on the first floor.” Tamara sounds distressed.  
  
“What? I thought you took care of them!” 

God, she’s hurting. She’s not sure she can take much more of it. Regina’s head throbs, her body trembles. She keeps her eyes shut, sees light flashing behind her eyelids. It’s like a bad migraine, but ten times worse. She’s so, so tired. Their voices, albeit soft, hammer against her skull and she winces involuntarily. Feels the sheen of sweat on her chest, back and forehead. Maybe they won’t notice her for a bit longer. And if Emma and Neal are really here, she needs to buy time in order for them to find her - if they're even looking for her in the first place.

“Yeah, so did I. We need to go. Now.”

“No. No, no no, I need more time with her.” Greg sounds frantic. Regina can hear him scurry around the table. She keeps her eyes closed.

“You do whatever the hell you want, Greg, but I’m not staying here. I’m taking whatever I can get and then I’m getting the hell out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving until I find out where my dad is,” Greg stubbornly growls. 

Regina’s heartbeat pounds in her throat. When Greg and Tamara move around her, the movement of air around her chills her - it makes her shiver violently. And even though she’s desperately trying to keep her body in check, she can’t control her convulsing muscles. She blinks and immediately regrets her mistake.

“Fine,” Tamara bites back, nodding at Regina. She’s noticed Regina’s awake state. “Hurry up, then. I’ll meet you at the van. You’ve got five minutes, then I’m out.” She turns and takes off, leaving Greg with Regina.

“So they’ve found me, huh?” Regina brings out, every word stinging in her mouth. Her voice is barely more than a whisper. She forces out a rough chuckle. “How… unpleasant for you.” 

He ignores her, turns to the machine, and turns on a few wheels. Everything in Regina’s body screams, begs, pleads not to do it but she turns her head away. She feels her eyes burning. “You’re the one who’s going to feel unpleasant,” he hisses. “Just so you know, I’ve turned up the voltage, doubled it. You’ve barely recovered from the last dose. Do you think you can survive this one?” 

His voice hurts her head and she groans in reply. “Now, I'm going to give you one last chance,” he growls, while leaning over her. She feels his breath on her lips, the drops of spit on her face. “Tell me where my father is.” She looks at him blankly for a few seconds, then averts her eyes and he whirls around in anger.

“Time’s up,” he barks, lifting his hand to slam the button.

But just before his fingers hit it, she says, “No - wait.” Because she’s human and she can’t, can’t take it anymore, her body won't allow it. Self-preservation kicks in, even though she rationally knows her chances of survival are already low as it is. Because with everything he, Hook, and Tamara have revealed, they’re not going to let her live. The whirring sounds of crackling electricity taunt her, as if they're humming promises to her hurting, nearly broken body. 

“Where is he?” he bellows.

Her mouth curves into a smirk and she musters up all her strength to speak. She’s not going without a fight. Let him suffer like she’s suffering.

“Dead,” she says with a crooked voice, looking him straight in the eye. She’s deeply satisfied when she sees how his face crunches up in disbelief and agony. “I killed him,” she rasps, “the minute you ran away.”  
  
“No. No, you’re lying,” he cries out in anger.

“Don’t believe me?” she croaks, “Go see for yourself.” She wrinkles her nose, curls up her lip in disgust for him. “I buried his body at your campsite. I doubt he gets many visitors there so he’ll probably appreciate your company.”

From the corner of her blurred vision, she sees how he clenches and unclenches his fist. Sees how he looks from her, raw anger on his face, back to the machine. Regina closes her eyes. Thinks about the first of two people she killed in this world. It wasn’t even intentional, she recalls. She had wanted to lock him up in the basement of the hospital. Nurse Ratched had already readied a cell for him. Graham, ironically, her second victim - was holding him, but somehow he had gotten out of his grip and he was running towards the town line, desperate to cross it and go after his son. Regina had sped up, placed her shoulder into his side and he’d swung aside, faltering and falling to the floor and he’d hit his head hard against a rock next to the ‘Leaving Storybrooke’ sign. His skull cracked open and he was dead instantly. 

Regina scoffs. She’s not going to tell him any of that. Let him dig up his father’s bones. Her body is tired. She knows there’s not much more she can take and she also knows this revelation will push Greg over the edge. But maybe, that's all right. Maybe that's what she deserves anyway. She’s cold, In her mind, she says goodbye. To Henry. To green eyes, focusing on her. They’re sad. The only thing Regina regrets is the chance she’d never had. _I’m sorry, Emma_. 

“Now, go ahead and kill me,” she says hoarsely, pushing him to put her out of her misery. “I just… wanted to see the look on your face when I-” 

She screams in pain when Greg slams his hand into the button, bringing the machine to life instantly - before Regina even hears the loud electrical crackling and whirring she already feels it. She cries and cries, it’s all she can do, and then, it stops.

“You feel that?” Greg bites at her, pure hatred on his face. He stretches his arm, points at her. “That’s the _end_ of you.” He hits the machine again, the electricity resumes, courses through her body.

“Uhnn,” Regina brings out, body rigid, arched off the table as the electricity surges through every bone, muscle, and vein.  
  
“That’s scary, ain’t it?” he barks at her, but she barely registers it. _I got you,_ she hears the faint whisper in her mind. She clings to it when she cries out in agony, and then, it mercifully stops again. She slams back into the table.

She’s disoriented, chokes on her own breath, her body desperately heaving for air, but she knows he isn’t done. Her blurred vision can’t focus on much at this point but when she meets his eyes, she sees the lust for revenge. Even in her current hazy state she recognizes it because this is exactly what she’s seen in her mirror for many, many years. She fades in and out, has trouble heaving enough oxygen into her system, her body convulsing. “Now,” Greg says, voice softer, more sinister than before and he leans a little towards her, which makes her shudder even more, “You’re never going to hurt anyone, ever again.” He chokes out a sound that's maybe a laugh. 

"Long live the fucking Queen."

He pulls back, slams the button and when her broken, exhausted body finally gives out, she doesn’t even register him leaving the room.

~*~

Voices. Whispered words enter her mind. Muffled as if they’re coming from another room, or like her head is wrapped in thick blankets. Is she dead? She must be. She can’t feel anything. Her body’s lifeless, numb. She can hear, but it’s like she’s not really there.

 _I'm_ _here, I’m here. I’m so, so sorry, Regina._ She hears a faint whisper in her mind and she tries to cling to the words. They feel like a hot bath on a chilly winter night. Like hot chocolate in front of the tv, tucked under a blanket while the autumn rain chisels the windows. The first sunny day in Spring. Picnics on a warm summer night under a starry sky.

But they’re not strong enough to hold on to and she drifts back into the vast blackness in which she doesn’t hear, see, or feel anything at all.

~*~

All right. She’s not dead, because she figures being dead doesn’t _hurt_ as much as this does. _Regina,_ she hears, voice all but a breath in her head. A whimper rings loudly in her ears, but the sound is so foreign that she doesn’t know if it’s her own or someone else’s closeby. She wanders in the darkness, alone, but she doesn’t feel lonely.

She’s not alone.

 _Now that the cuff is off, she’s going to be okay given time and rest._ _Her magic will return._

A blue bug is definitely not her opinion of warmth. She frowns, tries to breathe and it’s raspy, hurts her throat, but one coherent thought is that at least she _can_ breathe.

She’s not dead. She doesn’t know how that’s possible, but she’s not. She tries to open her eyes but she can’t, as if her eyelids are screwed together too tight. _I’d take your pain if I could._ It’s barely a whisper, but it soothes her restless movements. She is exhausted, can’t fight it, and drifts away again.

~*~ 

When she finally _can_ open her eyes, she sees a face she’d never expected. Her body, weak as it is, wants to recoil instinctively but the imminent flash of pain halts her movements immediately. Everything still hurts, the extra tension inflicting another wave of pain and she whimpers. Her body is cold, even under all the blankets and she starts to shiver, despite her clammy skin. _Fever_. “You,’ she croaks out. “You saved me?”

Snow’s face is pulled in a frown, her eyes unreadable. Regina’s vision is still somewhat hazy, but she focuses on the eyes of her arch-nemesis. “No,” Snow answers with a soft but steady voice. Regina’s mind is hazy. Can’t figure out for the love of God why, if she didn’t save her, she would be here. 

Her eyes wander over Snow’s features, expecting her to taunt her. But she never does. the White princess just stares at her with her big, doe-like eyes. She looks… sad, surprisingly.

Because Snow’s _good_ , a voice lisps inside her head. But when she automatically wants to shake her head on that thought, Regina winces. She can hardly move without every bone in her body protesting intensely. She tries to relax her limbs but even that attempt is met with flashes of pain. Her strained muscles howl in agony. It’s a whole different kind of torture.

Her eyes flick through the room. It is only then that she sees she’s in a hospital. Wired to some machines that spiral her right back to the concrete basement she was held in and she groans, whines as flashes of memories return to her. She tries to keep her reactions under control but her body’s not cooperating. “Shh,” Snow murmurs. “You’re safe now. We… we nearly lost you.”  
  
Regina blinks, gasps. Tries to focus on her surroundings as her chest feels so, so tight. Creamy walls. Beeping machines. Curtains closed - it must be evening. “Perfect time… to get rid of me.” Her voice cracks. Her mind is tired from the effort to talk, to stay awake, to control herself. Snow lifts a wet cloth. Wipes it gently over her forehead. Regina closes her eyes, momentarily lost in the moment of kindness. Welcomes the cool cloth against her heated skin.

“She refused to let you die,” Snow murmurs. She doesn’t elaborate on who exactly, but she doesn’t have to. They both know who she’s referring to. “You nearly were. In fact, your heart stopped several times on your way here. But she never stopped talking to you and for some reason, every time she did, it made you stronger.” Her mouth tugs into a small smile. “I guess we’re both a little like roaches, hm? It takes more than a little torture to end us.” 

_She’s not dying,_ Regina remembers Emma saying when the wraith was coming for her. She chokes on a sob and her body protests immediately. Takes in a shuddering breath. Can’t deal with their kindness. Her head is still pounding fervently and she closes her eyes when her peripheral vision blackens momentarily.

She feels weak. Nothing more than a shade of herself. Some of her muscles are strained and start to tremble uncontrollably. She wants to reach for her magic to steady herself but she can’t, she’s too weak. It’s still there, but it’s withdrawn far out of her reach. Hidden in the depths of her very being. Regina can’t feel vulnerable, weak, in front of her mortal enemy.

And yet, here she is. 

“Is Henry... safe?” The question is hardly audible. She hears Snow’s sigh. 

“Yes, he is. He’s with David. Nothing can harm him.”

You bet they can. If she, a powerful witch, a one time Evil Queen can be overpowered, so can David. The trust Snow places in her other half is admirable, but Regina knows that if they really want, David is no match for them. These people are relentless. And with Greg running on revenge - well. She knows exactly how that can play out.

She opens her mouth to tell Snow, to snap at her, but Snow places a gentle finger to her lips. “Sleep, now. You’re running a fever. We’ll catch Greg.” She smiles, fate on her face. “Good always wins, remember?”

Oblivious idiot, Regina can’t help but think. She tries to fight the blackness in her peripheral view that’s trying to overtake her - her mind is fuzzy with fever and remnants of the electrical torture she endured, but she needs to hang on. “He’s not alone,” she whispers, barely audible, “Emma was right,” but before she can elaborate her mind blacks out and she can’t latch onto Snow’s concerned question about who it might be.

~*~

Her eyes snap open, the nightmare she lived through just outside her reach and she wants to heave in the oxygen, but her sore throat only allows it to enter chokingly. Her adrenaline spikes as she tries to sit upright but her body protests violently. Regina falls back into the pillows, chokes on her own breath.

Someone takes her hand, envelops it in warmth. It makes her notice how cold her own hand is. Another hand is briefly placed on her forehead and instinctively Regina jerks her head away.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m here. Breathe. I got you.”

And she does, even though black spots cloud her sight from the muscle pains. She breathes in through her nose, shaky, exhales through her mouth. It takes a couple of times for her breath to steady and for her gaze to clear up.

“There you are. Hey.”  
  
Carefully, she turns her head a little bit. Emma’s face comes into view. She drinks in the features, the green eyes, the concerned frown, the blond hair framing her face. The nightmare, still lingering in the back of her head, contained those features but how exactly, she can’t remember as it fades rapidly from her mind. Regina blinks rapidly, to clear her groggy mind. The world comes back to her. There are more pressing matters than a nightmare. “They have it,” Regina whispers urgently, a raw edge to her voice, blinking the fog from her brain. “The failsafe.”

Now, Emma’s brow furrows. “Easy, Regina. Don’t overstrain yourself. Who has what?”

"Greg.” She shakes her head lightly and registers that it hurts less than before. Her voice is still raspy. “Tamara. Hook.”

“Tamara and Hook?” Emma looks puzzled. “Hook is back in town? And Tamara… she’s with Neal.” Concern flares up in her eyes.

Regina shakes her head but winces as her head starts to pound. “No. You were right,” Regina murmurs. “About Tamara.”

Emma tightens the grip on Regina’s hand as Regina’s words start to sink in, and the brunette hisses. Emma quickly relaxes her grip as Regina continues. “They have the failsafe.”  
  
“What failsafe?”  
  
There’s another voice in the room now. The door of the hospital room is right behind Emma and she sees Snow coming in, closely followed by David. Their faces are pulled in a frown. “Henry?” Regina whispers, remembers what Snow’s told her before. If David's here, then where is- 

“He’s with Red,” Emma informs her quickly. “She’ll protect him.” Good, good. Red’s a werewolf. She’ll hopefully rip their throats out before they know it, Regina thinks, and she sinks back a little in her pillows. 

“They have it,” Regina repeats again, but her voice sounds thin. “The failsafe - trigger. That will destroy Storybrooke.” She wets her lips, her mouth dry from the effort. She brings her free hand to her temple. Winces when she touches the sensitive skin where the electrode was placed before and at the same time, so relieved that she's not restrained anymore. 

“What failsafe, Regina?” Emma urgently inquires. She still holds her hand and Regina tries to tighten her grip. Anchors herself and tries to keep herself focused.

“I had a failsafe built into the curse,” Regina rasps. “To destroy it. Everything. And everyone.”

“Why exactly were you carrying it around?” Snow says, wide-eyed, an accusation lining her words. The compassion from earlier has all but vanished. 

“Didn’t,” Regina murmurs in defense. “I wanted to take it. Twice. But I hesitated.” Her eyes glide from Snow to Emma. “Hook was at my house. Someone knocked me unconscious. He found -- took it.”  
  
“You wanted to?” Snow cries out and Regina automatically turns her head away and winces. Too much noise. She closes her eyes to block them out, but of course, they won’t let her. They never do.

“You were going to destroy us?” David spits out as he steps forward, grabs the bed. Something makes a rattling sound and involuntarily, Regina tenses. She breathes shakily, keeps her eyes firmly shut. Can’t look at their angry faces. Not when she feels so weak, so vulnerable. “After you killed my mother… I was going to use a bean to take Henry back to the Enchanted Forest,” she brings out, her voice hoarse. She feels how Emma’s hand loosens its grip and she tightens her own, uses the contact as a lifeline as she owns up her plan. 

Her mistake.

She’s never going to admit _that_ to the two hypocrites behind Emma.

“And in the process, kill us all?” Snow cries in outrage. 

Regina opens her eyes, right in time to see the anger on Snow’s face. Typical. “You want to discuss justification?” she hisses at her nemesis, as she senses in surprise how her own anger makes her stronger, “You were going to abandon me. Or lock me up, to spend the rest of my days in a magical jail cell deeply hidden in a cage.”

“We weren’t going to kill an entire town! That’s not how _we_ work,” David barks at her. His words hit her in her chest. Unlike her. She hears the subtext loud and clear. 

There’s a soft gasp next to her. The pained look on Emma’s face makes Regina realize that she’s dug her nails in Emma’s hand and she quickly releases it. She regrets it right away as the warmth seeps away from her hand. “The more pressing issue is that I no longer control the trigger,” she barks at them. “They do.” 

“If you hadn’t-”

“Stop it,” Emma cuts in sharply, shutting her father up with an angry glare. “We can discuss antics and intentions later. Right now, we need to stop them. We’ve got to inform Neal about Tamara. Do they know what it can do?” Emma asks, tilting her head back to Regina. There’s a worried frown on her face. For her? For everyone?  
  
Both?

 _I got you_ , Regina remembers. The words tug at her chest. Warm her cold chest. Regina’s voice is still unsteady. “Yes,” she whispers. Her head becomes heavy and she leans back in the pillows. 

“How do we know if they’ve activated it?”

“Trust me, Swan,” Regina murmurs, “When they'll activate it, you'll know.”

Her words linger in the air. The silence following is deafening.

Until Emma breaks it. “Then we have to make sure that we know how to counteract when that happens. Once it’s activated. The fact that they haven’t yet… means they’re not done.” Emma stands up and looks from Regina to Snow and David. Regina doesn’t miss the warning glare in her parents' direction.

“You can’t destroy it once it’s activated. It’s a failsafe. Not a switch,” Regina grumbles irritably.

“Then find a way to stop it. You did this. It’s your fault. Now make it stop.” David’s voice barks through the room. His accusing eyes burn holes in her chest. Well, she’s used to that. If she could have, if her limbs and head hadn’t felt so heavy, she’d have raised her chin in defiance.

“I can’t. There’s no way. Find it before it’s being activated, that’s the only way out of this.” Her voice grows more little snappy now. She can't fathom what he doesn’t understand about the trigger and how it works, but apparently, David’s thick skull needs to be addressed with the fact another few times. A wave of frustrated anger rises in her chest. Insipid moron. All heroic muscles, hardly any brain. It’s beyond her why -

“There’s always another way,” Emma interrupts her thoughts, turning her head back to her and Regina sighs in exasperation. “We just need to figure it out. We have to work together, not against one another.”

Regina huffs, focuses on Emma. Always trying to save everyone. She’s sweet, but there really isn’t anything she can do. Not this time. But there’s so much that Regina still needs to talk to her about. And at the same time, she feels the exhaustion tugging at her brain. She needs to tell Emma’s Tamara’s plan, Greg’s father, that she should take Henry and leave. Get the hell away from Storybrooke while she still can. The beans in her office. 

Her eyes grow wide. “I have beans,” she whispers, shooting up and groaning instantly, falling back into the pillows as excruciating pain crashes through her body. She’s momentarily disoriented, gasps for air, hears some hushed voices as she waits for the pain to subside a little bit. Feels a hand slip into hers again while she forces herself to regulate her breathing again. She tilts her head more carefully this time, faces the threesome next to her bed. “In, in my office. I saved some when....” When she burned the bean field to the ground.

David perches up. “I’ll go get them.” He leaves the room in a hurry. Always the hero. Regina resists the urge to roll her eyes. It hurts too much to do it anyway. But right now, she can appreciate his hands-on mentality. She inhales a shaky breath, wills the pain back. She sees the green gaze that has made her hold on through torture and she relaxes. It’s almost a Pavlovian response, she scoffs at herself. It’s dangerous to rely on one person. But right now, it’s the only one she has.

“Tamara, she wants magic,” Regina sighs, feeling lightheaded. It's getting harder to keep her thoughts in order, make coherent sentences. Her body is far from healed - who knew that healing was so hard and tiring? “She wants magic and... items. Hook… they’ll help Hook to get his revenge. Take magical items.” Aligning interests. How ironic that hers now align with Snow and her sidekicks. Must be karma, she absentmindedly thinks. Though she’s suffered karma’s fallout enough, these last couple of days.  
  
“And then they’ll destroy the town and everyone in it?” Snow cries out. Regina nods with a wince. “Hook's ship can safely sail away from Storybrooke, no harm done. He will flee.” She winces when she moves her arm. “He’s a survivor. Cockroach,” she reminds Snow of her earlier words.

The conversation has worn her out. She feels how exhaustion’s tentacles curl themselves around her worn-out mind. “Save Henry,” Regina mutters and then, she sinks away in the darkness again.


	9. Chapter 9

A loud rumble wakes her. Her bed shudders and shakes, protests against the shaking earth. Above her, the lamp dances on its cord. The low, rumbling sound reminds her hazy mind of restraints and chains, which immediately pulls her out of her groggy state. The table next to her bed rolls away, its frame rattling. Instinctively she grabs the sides of her bed until the shaking subsides. And that’s when she feels it. 

It’s back. Her magic is back. 

It sings to her, bubbles under her skin and Regina is so, so relieved. Her muscles are still a little sore, she senses when she flexes them, tests her limits, but the pain has lessened somewhat. Her magic is like morphine. It dulls the pain and she can alleviate herself, so her muscles are hurting less. It makes her functional again. Satisfaction fills her mind, until a softer rumble shifts her thoughts to the pressing matter at hand.

The earthquake, she knows what it is. Her stomach drops.

It’s the end.

The door flies open and a whirlwind of blond curls barges in. “Are you okay?” Emma breathes with wide eyes and a distressed look in her eyes and Regina nods. 

“Yes. Yes, I am. But not for long, none of us will be. The trigger, it’s been activated.” She swings her legs out of bed before she realizes what she’s doing and is mildly surprised that she can, without a searing pain shooting through her body. Their last conversation seeps back into her mind. “David, did he find...?” she asks hopefully, but seeing the way Emma’s face falters, she knows it’s not good news.

There’s agony in Emma’s eyes when she shakes her head. “Someone was in your office before we arrived. The beans are gone.” She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “We called Neal to warn him about Tamara. He… he didn’t want to believe. But when he finally did, he got so upset that he called her. And apparently, that sped things up. We’ve had softer quakes in the past hour. It’s bizarre, outside. As if nature is trying to take the town back.”

Regina’s heart sinks. “It is. The forest is reverting to its natural state, before Storybrooke came into being,” she replies as a mild rumble lets the lamp above her head sway lightly. They both look up, but Regina turns her eyes back to Emma quickly. There’s no time to lose. 

“Emma, you have to take Henry and leave,” she urges. “Pass the town’s border. You’re the only ones who can without…” Dying. Losing your memories. “He’s the only one who matters. And he’ll have you. You have to save him. He can’t...” She turns her head away from the blonde, momentarily overcome by grief. He can’t witness how his family perishes and dies. She doesn’t know how it’s going to happen, how they’re going to leave this world, but she doesn’t want him to figure it out.

“Regina-”

“No!” 

Both women jerk their heads towards the door. Henry stands in the doorway, eyes wide with fear. “I’m not leaving you, mom!”

The feelings that surge through Regina heal more than any medicine ever can. “Henry,” she breathes as her son who she hasn’t touched for so long races to her bed and throws himself in her arms. “Oh,” she gasps in surprise, nearly chokes on her own breath when she automatically wraps her arms tightly around her son. Shocked, she meets Emma’s eyes over his head and she sees her own surprise mirrored in hers. But Emma lifts the corner of her mouth before Regina bows her head, buries her nose in his hair.  _ Her son _ . It’s been so long since he’s allowed her to hug him. She revels in the moment, chokes out a sob. Holds him tightly and exhales a trembling sigh, unable to release him. Runs her fingers through her hair - he needs a haircut, she automatically thinks and buries her face in his neck. She doesn’t want to let him go, wants to hold on to him forever.

But she can’t. He has to leave town. She inhales his scent, caresses his cheek. Wants to take in as much of him as she possibly can before she won’t be able to anymore. “If Emma doesn’t leave, she’ll die too,” she whispers in his hair. Her eyes find Emma’s and she knows the blonde has heard it. “Everyone who stays here, who wasn’t from this world, will die. It’s irreversible, my little prince.” Her fingers softly brush over his chin.

“There  _ has _ to be another way,” Emma says stubbornly, “I can’t believe that this is the end.” She raises her head. “There  _ always  _ is another way.”

“You can figure it out. I know you can,” Henry chips in and she shakes her head at his suddenly unwavering faith in her.

She doesn’t deserve their trust, their belief in her. It’s not that she’s done a lot to earn it. But they still do and it sends warmth through her body. And she owes it to them to try.

“Best thing I can do is to slow it down,” Regina murmurs, reluctantly releasing Henry when his embrace becomes less tight and he starts to wriggle out of her grasp. “But that will only delay the inevitable.” The weight of her words are pressing on her shoulders. Because the only way she can slow it down is to tether her magic to it, until the very end. She swallows, knows her end will be slow and painful. “Did you find Hook’s ship?”

Emma shakes her head. “He’s already gone. Left when the first quakes started. He probably thought he could leave killing Gold to Greg and Tamara.”.She snorts “We haven’t found them yet, so they must still be here to see their work fulfilled. The trigger won’t affect them, will it?”

“No, they weren’t born in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Well, we’ll deal with them later. First we have to find a way to stop the trigger.” Her green eyes find Regina’s dark ones and Regina’s a little taken aback with the confidence Emma radiates. “If you can slow it down enough, then maybe we have enough time to find the stolen beans and get everyone to the enchanted forest before…” Her voice drifts away, and all that Regina can do is nod.

“All right.”

She carefully slips out of the hospital bed, the shirt they gave her barely covers her thighs. “I need my clothes.” She’s determined to give Emma as much time as she needs. As much as she can, until her magic runs out. Henry rushes to the narrow cabinet in the corner and retrieves a bag. 

When he opens it, she sees different clothes than the ones she wore when the evil trio tortured her. The memory makes her shiver. She narrows her eyes and looks questioning at Emma. She smiles sheepishly.    
  
“I thought you’d like a fresh set of clothes after what you went through,” she murmurs. Regina smiles in appreciation.

“Thank you,” she quietly says. Emma didn’t have to go to her house to get her a clean set of clothes and yet she did - and it confuses her. “It’s very… thoughtful of you.”

Emma returns the smile, but then her green eyes flick to Regina’s bare legs and the blonde blinks rapidly, before she grabs Henry by the shoulders.

“Turn around, kid, give your mom some privacy,” Emma tells him sternly, when she sees Regina staring right back at her. Regina lifts an eyebrow, and knows Emma saw it, because when the blonde turns and whirls Henry around with her simultaneously, she sees how Emma’s cheeks color light pink. Despite the dire situation, it puts a smirk on her face. 

“Hey, can’t we sink the trigger into a portal?” Henry then says, excited. He wants to turn around to his adoptive mother but Emma keeps him rooted in his spot. “You know, like you did with the wraith and Jefferson’s hat?” 

Huh. She’s always known that Henry is a smart kid. Surprised - and a little miffed that she hasn’t thought of that herself, Regina buttons up her blouse. “I believe we can,” she answers a little hopeful. Getting dressed takes a little more effort than it usually does - she still feels a little stiff - but she gets there quickly. Sure, she could’ve dressed herself magically but it’s probably best to save every strength she has for the task at hand.

“The trigger wouldn’t work in another realm as it is specifically designed to destroy something in this one. However, we’d still need a magic bean. Or something else that creates a portal, but Jefferson’s hat has been ruined.” She zips up her pants, closes the button. “You can turn around now.” 

Henry turns and comes towards the bed again before fishes out a phone from his pocket and Regina, who’s just reached for her shoes, halts in surprise when she sees it. “I’m gonna call Grace, maybe she knows if her dad has already made a new-”    
  
“You have a cellphone?” Regina cries out in shock. She sees the sudden tension in Emma’s shoulders as she throws the blonde an dark glance. What else has she missed in the few weeks she’s hardly seen her son?    
  
“Yeah, I do. I got it two days ago,” Henry tells her proudly. Regina zips steps into her shoe and stomps it to the ground. Emma turns as well and Regina narrows her eyes at her. 

“He’s  _ ten _ ,” Regina points out, outraged. It sounds like an accusation, but Emma doesn’t seem impressed and calmly meets her gaze.

“I figured, with everything going on now with Greg on the loose, it’d be good for him to have one so that he could always reach us if he got in trouble. I programmed your number as well,” Emma says s if that’s a comment to win her over, waving at Henry who’s making the call. She smiles an apology. “And you were unavailable to discuss it with at the time, so I couldn’t really ask. And it works more efficiently than a walkie,” she adds with a sheepish grin.

Regina opens her mouth to give a sharp retort but Henry already turns, disappointment lining his features and shaking his head. “Jefferson hasn’t figured it out yet,” he says. She pulls him close, thankful that she’s able to do that again, at least for now. They’ll talk about the phone later.    
  
If there is a later, at all. She tries to swallow a thick lump in her throat. She shakes her head, places a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“If Emma and I are going to figure this thing out, I need you to go with Ruby, Henry,” she quietly tells him, “She can protect you while-”   
  
"But I wanna go with you,” he interrupts her vehemently, eyeing both his mothers insistently. But Regina shakes her head instantly. She knows that their chances of finding a bean, or any other way to create a portal, are slim. If delaying the diamond really is the end, she doesn’t want him there when it happens. 

“No, you can’t, it’s too dangerous.” Regina’s voice is definitive and Emma smiles at him, sympathetic, but her eyes mirror Regina's firmness.

“Listen to your mother, kid. We’ll be back as soon as we can to come and get you, all right?”

“You promise?” he asks, glaring at the both of them. Regina’s heart sinks and she bites on the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t want to lie to him. Knows that the chance of her returning from this is close to zero. Her eyes flash from him to Emma, but Emma’s already stepped closer and runs her hand through Henry’s hair. “I promise.”

It satisfies Henry enough, makes him nod reluctantly. Regina leans closer to him, looks him in the eye. “Before you go,” she murmurs, remorse adamant in her eyes, ”I’m sorry for what’s happened.” She swallows away a lump in her throat, feels his smart, investigating eyes on her face, watching her intently. “I tried to be the person that you wanted me to be and I failed.” The flash of hurt running over his features slices painfully through her heart. His feelings are still so close to the surface. She deserves the hint of distrust after everything she’s put him through, after everything she’s put this town through. “You just know that I love you, all right?” she quietly tells him, touching his chin with her index finger.

A smile appears in his eyes. “I love you too.” He steps forward, wraps his arms around her waist and she fights her tears, wills them away, knowing quite well that this might be the last time she will ever hold him like this, no matter what he or Emma believe. 

This, this is everything she had ever wished for. Him telling her that he loved her without being forced - his unconditional love. If she thought she could have had this when Emma Swan came to town, she probably wouldn’t have spiraled in her surge of panicked rage - she wouldn’t have tried to run the blonde out of town. With regret, she thinks how different her life could have been if she had only made other choices. For a brief moment, she buries her nose in his thick, soft hair. She swears he’s grown over these past weeks but in her heart, he’ll always be her little boy. Her baby.

Over his head, her eyes meet Emma’s. She looks at them, sympathetically, putting her phone away. “Ruby’s outside,” she quietly informs them, reluctant to break them up. Regina smiles sadly, inhales a little shaky and slowly lets him go. 

“Go to Ruby now, Henry,” she gently tells him. The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks at her and nods. 

“Yeah, I will. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He turns, firmly hugs Emma as well, and leaves the room with a wave of his hand, not waiting for an answer. And all Regina can think of is that this might be the very last time that she’s seen him.

“We have to go,” she says, voice crooked.

Emma’s eyes seem a little red to her, as well. “Do we know where to look?”   


“I know where it is,” Regina replies, nodding . “The trigger is linked to the magic that brought the curse to life. Mine, to be exact. I can feel it and I can… sniff it out, as it were.” 

And she can. All she needs is to trust her instincts and follow the call of the magic. On their way, there are two more earthquakes. They witness how a tree starts to grow instantly up through Mo French’ flower store, and how ivy is claiming Gold’s pawn shop. Regina nearly loses her balance as Main Street cracks open right next to her and water starts to spray from a broken pipe. Roots crawl around the pipe, and spread over the asphalt.

Emma instinctively grabs Regina's arm and holds her close. Steadies her. Regina looks up, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she firmly sets her feet on the ground again. “I got you,” Emma says before she releases her. Despite the more than worrisome situation, both the words and the action make her feel light-headed - in a good way. And when Regina continues her way and Emma follows, she thinks that Emma’s friendship - or whatever the hell it is that they have going on between them - is more than she could’ve ever asked for _. _

It doesn’t take them long before they reach the entrance of the mines. Regina doesn’t hesitate and pushes forward. The rumbling ground has dust and small rocks raining down on them and they instinctively cover their heads. Emma coughs when she breathes in the dust, but it isn’t the only thing obstructing their breathing as they progress further into the mines “It’s like the oxygen is being sucked out of the air,” Emma observes as they round a corner. 

“Not the oxygen,” Regina replies, leading the way by only half a step. “Magic.” Emma throws her a sideway glance. But Regina doesn’t notice, because she sees a faint, blue glow ahead. She’s relieved and dreads what’s going to happen next at the same time. “There it is,” she says, picking up her pace. Emma is right behind her. “Once it stops glowing, its destruction is achieved and then...” She cautiously approaches it, feels how the stone tugs at her magic, absorbs it. “Then, we’ll see the real carnage.” 

Or they won’t, because they’ll be erased from existence. And she’s going to do everything in her power to keep Henry far from it. 

Staring at the diamond, she inhales through pursed lips. Her heartrate picks up. Because here, where she feels how the magic is being drained from the air, from the town, from this  _ world _ , her earlier optimism of maybe having a chance is drained with it.

This is it. This is the end. It’s not the happy ending she once envisioned for herself. A small house, horses around her. Daniel by her side. A couple of dark haired children playing and laughing. That happy ending has been long gone, as have any chances of forgiveness. She inhales deeply, exhales through pursed lips. “I’ll… try to contain its energy for as long as I can.”   
  
“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Emma asks, a frown on her forehead. She eyes the radiating diamond as well. 

It’s a beautiful object. Shaped perfectly. The stone is dark blue, lighter in the center where it captures the magic. Magical flecks dance around it, circle like mosquitos around a lamp until they’re absorbed into the stone. It’s like a black hole, sucking out all the light - scary, but at the same time, mesmerizing. 

A dark rumble comes from far below. She flinches when the diamond creates another earthquake that causes another rain of stones to fall down on them.

“I’ll have to be,” Regina answers simply. She looks up, catches Emma’s gaze. “Promise me that if you are unable to find another way, you’ll immediately leave town and cross the town line with Henry.” 

“We won’t. We’ll have the bean soon and then all this will be over.” How Emma is still so confident is beyond her and right now, it frustrates Regina immensely. This is serious. And she needs Emma to take it seriously.

“Promise me,” she snaps. “I don’t know if I can do this if you don’t.” She needs Emma to keep her word. 

But Emma doesn’t promise. Instead, she stills. Tilts her head and narrows her eyes as she holds Regina’s gaze. “What are you saying, Regina?” she asks, a wary look in her eyes, as if she's almost afraid of the answer, as if she doesn’t really want to know. Her face pulls into a frown.

Regina breathes in and feels how she trembles. Emma, heroic fool as she is, would have wanted to talk her out of it if she knew how slim their chances would be. But she needs Emma to keep Henry safe. And if that means she has to tell her why, she’s going to. 

“We don’t know where the beans are. You have to agree with me that chances of this working out are small, Emma.” Her eyes beg the blonde to understand. “I can give you time to find the bean, but even if you do, there might not be time to return to the mines.”    
  
Emma shakes her head stubbornly and Regina wants to shake some sense into her. “Listen to me!” she cries out. “If you find the bean, open the goddamn portal and get people to safety. If you don’t find it, collect Henry and leave, get the hell out of here.” She sighs, deflates a little. “Because slowing this device… it’s going to require all the strength I have. I need to know that when time runs out, that you’ll bring Henry to safety. That you’ll be there for him. Don’t let him grow up like I had you grow up.” Her voice falters and she swallows hard.

She sees how realization slowly dawns and how Emma’s eyes widen. Her breath chokes. “You never planned on coming with us, were you? Even if we found a way?” There’s a violent accusation in Emma's eyes that nearly makes Emma flinch. “When you said goodbye to Henry you… you were really saying goodbye.” She stands frozen to her spot, a hint of betrayal in her eyes. 

Regina’s eyes sting and she averts her eyes, unable to cope with the hurt in Emma’s eyes. The betrayal. She stares into the dark diamond, which is slowly turning in circles, absorbing magic as it goes. “He… He knows I love him, doesn’t he?” she quietly says.

“Regina, no. There  _ has got _ to be another way,” Emma tries to plead with her, but Regina knows there isn’t. And when Emma takes a step towards her, Regina lifts her hands in defense and steps back. 

“David was right, you know. This is all my fault,” she says with a quiver in her voice. Her eyes are wet and she blinks heavily, tries to keep in the tears. “I created the trigger. It’s… only fitting that it takes my life.” 

“I promised Henry we would be okay,” Emma bites at her, hurt by her words and rejection. Regina can see it. Feel it. “What am I supposed to tell him? Regina, please-” 

Regina looks up, breathing shakily. Her stomach turns around, and she feels nauseous, but she has to be strong. For Henry. For Emma. “Tell him that in the end it wasn’t too late for me to do the right thing.” She forces a smile, strained, but hopes it can come across as a little reassuring. And this time, she doesn’t move backward as Emma moves closer to her. She searches green eyes for a hint of understanding, locks her own with them and feels how her smile cracks as her eyes water. “Everyone looks at me as the Evil Queen, including my son.” Her voice breaks. “Let me die as Regina.” 

“God damnit, Regina, I told you before,” Emma says with a mix of exasperation and despair, not willing to give up just yet, “I never saw you as the Evil Queen.” She grasps Regina’s upper arms, sending a tingling feeling through Regina’s body. “I can’t let you do this,” she barks. “Not when…” Her voice falters and Regina’s chest feels tight as if she can’t breathe. And it has nothing to do with the diamond that calmly destroys the magic, including the world around and above them. Another earthquake lets the ground tremble and instinctively, Regina grabs Emma’s arms. They tightly hold on to each other.

“You have no choice,” she whispers. A tear slips from her eye, leaves a wet trail on her cheek. “I trust you to keep Henry safe. To keep yourself safe.” She lowers her gaze, feels the weight of her words. Remembers another time, not that long ago.  _ Do you trust me? Not a chance in hell. _

Much has changed since then, on all fronts. Regina’s eyes flick from Emma’s eyes to the diamond and back. They’re running out of time. “You have to go,” she whispers and nudges her away, drops her own hands.

But Emma holds on, tightens her grip. “Regina…” she says, eyes red rimmed with unshed tears. Regina can feel how her nails dig into her skin, even through her coat. “I can’t - I… Can I kiss you?” Her voice wavers.

Regina’s heart flutters as she takes a shuddering breath. And maybe because this is the end she gives in. She doesn’t deserve it, but if this is all she can have... “Yes,” she whispers, “you may.”

Even before she finishes speaking Emma abruptly pulls her closer. Presses her lips tightly on Regina’s. She tastes of despair, salty as the tears that now spill on both Emma and Regina’s cheeks. This is it. This is the end of a life, of possibilities that could have been. Regina’s breath hitches as more tears spill from the corner of her eyes and she lifts her hands to wrap around Emma’s head to pull her closer. 

She chose darkness long before, she reminds herself while burying her hands deep in Emma’s blond manes, while Emma grabs her waist and pulls her closer, desperate for the contact. The only light she has is Emma, here and now and with a sigh, Regina lets her in. Emma gasps softly, slips her tongue into Regina’s mouth and Regina replies accordingly. Their kiss is desperate and messy. Their sorrow is interwoven in every movement they make, every touch, every caress. Regina’s hands slip from Emma’s hair to her neck, to her cheeks, softly cupping her face, brushing the soft skin with her thumbs. Emma’s hands slip under her coat, travel up over Regina’s back and she shivers as her skin heats under the blonde’s touch. And it’s the perfect ending, Regina thinks hazily when she gently withdraws, to a life with a lot of bad choices and, in the end, maybe a few good ones. “You need to go,” she murmurs, hands still cupping Emma’s cheek, leaning her forehead against the blonde’s before she wraps her arms tightly around the blonde, pushing her face into the crook of Emma's neck. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, revels in the touch, the fresh scent of Emma’s shampoo. “Go save Henry.” 

Emma chokes on a sob when she pulls back, her cheeks wet and eyes glistening with more tears. Regina inhales deeply, offers her a watery smile and swallows hard, before she moves to the other side of the diamond. She stares at it. So beautiful. So destructive. She lifts her hands, looks up a final time when Emma takes a few steps away from her, hesitates, and turns to face her again. There’s something in her eyes that is strange to Regina and yet, she understands what it is. But she can’t, doesn’t want to address it because it might make her lose the courage to do this in the first place, and when Emma starts with, “Regina, I-”, she forces her magic onto the diamond. The purple tentacles forcing themselves into the vicinity of the dancing magical flecks nearly send her flying - the backlash is intense.

But she holds her ground, plants her feet firmly on the stone floor.

She faintly registers the retreating footsteps and briefly allows more tears to fall, mourns something she could never really understand why it was offered to her in the first place. But then, she purses her lips, blows out all the air of her lungs and forces the diamond to take her first, then the town. Forces it to avert its attention to her instead of the ones that matter. It should give Emma ample time to either save the day or leave town and get Henry the hell away from here.

She feels how the tentacles of the diamond tentatively reach out to her, how it carefully latches onto her magic. She finds it almost ticklish, the way the trigger places barbs inside her power, inside the steady flow she pours into the failsafe. Despite her injury, she has a lot to feed it. Her magic is strong, well-trained. Especially now, when she doesn’t have to hold back, she can give it her all, her entire being, every last ounce of herself until there’s nothing more to give, until it has squeezed the life out of her. But that’s okay, because it will enable both Henry and Emma to save either everyone or at least themselves. She stares into the depths of the mesmerizing diamond as waves of purple magic continue to blast into it. For Henry. For Emma. For everyone else in this godforsaken town that she once would have thought not worth saving. She nearly snorts at herself. Most of them still aren’t. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s feeding it, only knows that time passes because her strength is waning. And then her knee gives out and immediately the earth starts rumbling. It forces her to steady herself, reminding herself groggily that she can’t give up on slowing down the diamond, not until the very end. But it becomes harder as the traction of the stone becomes more intense, when the diamond leashes tug harder, harder, harder on her weary frame. Her tired bones, not fully recovered and steadied by magic, feel heavy and brittle. Closing her eyes, she feels how the diamond pulls, starts to reel her in, she can’t help but smile, hoping to God that Emma succeeded. She exhales a shaking breath.

Live alone.

Die alone.

She’s made peace with it now, and smiles again, sweat of the exercise thick on her forehead.

And she hears running footsteps. 

“Mom!” 

Her eyes snap open and she nearly falters. No. No, no,  _ no!  _ The earth rumbles, her tired gaze falls on her son.

“ _ Henry!”  _ she cries, horrified, “What are you  _ doing  _ here?!” He launches himself towards her, crashes into her and she nearly falters as he firmly wraps his arms around her waist. Her eyes flash towards the direction he had come from. “Where is Emma?”

“She told me that you’re sacrificing yourself. That you want to die to save everyone. That makes you a hero!”

A pang of guilt clears her mind. It was mostly Emma and Henry she wanted to save. The rest of the town hasn’t really given her ample reason to fight for them, they’re just… lucky they’re here. Lucky if she succeeds. Doomed if she fails.

The latter most imminent, as she’s about to pass out. Black spots start to appear in her peripheral view and she chokes out a sob. “No, no,  _ no _ ,” Regina mewls, and her voice breaks. “You’re not supposed to  _ be  _ here, Henry!” she cries out, distressed. Her heart sinks. She doesn’t want him to be here. Can’t have him here if she must do this. She can’t have him watch her die. And she feels her strength slipping away. There’s not enough time for him to reach the town’s border. He’ll live, but he -   
  
“Henry!” she hears from down the mine and Henry, who buried his face in Regina’s shoulder, who’s wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, looks up. He doesn’t let go and there’s nothing she can do, because she needs her focus on the diamond. 

“I’m here, with my  _ mom _ !” he shouts back defiantly, keeping his arms firmly around her. Emma skips into view, gaze bewildered. 

“He snuck out from right under our nose,” she chokes out the apology when another rumble quakes the earth, and she bends a little through her knees to keep standing. “We didn’t find a bean and we’d just said goodbye to my parents and when I turned, he was gone.”

Her despair adamant in her eyes, Regina meets Emma’s eyes. “I… I can’t contain it much longer,” she brings out with a choking voice. She’s on her last reserves. “Take him, Emma. You have to… Henry… He can’t see this.”   
  
Henry’s head jerks back. “We have to think of something! We can’t leave you here!” 

Her eyes flick to Henry, who looks back at her, scared. He’s just a little boy, has had to deal with a lot in his young life already. Most of it because of her. “You  _ have _ to go,” she chokes out, eyes momentarily on the stone, who is now turning faster than it was when Emma and Regina had first encountered it. “I love you, Henry,” she says, and her voice breaks. “I only wish I was strong enough to stop all this.” 

“You are! You just have to try a little harder, I know you can,” Henry cries out in agony, realizing what this means and wanting that it doesn’t.

Regina releases a sound between a laugh and a cry. Oh, the innocence of youth. Only for him she wants to try harder, better. But she knows she can’t win this. 

“No, Henry,” she says with a sob in her voice, “I’m not.” She tries to blink the black spots away that cloud her vision. Her hands, which had started to shake a while back because of the diamond’s brutal force, now violently shudder as she desperately tries to keep control.

He presses his head into her shoulder and she cries, buries her face in his hair by lowering her head, anguished that her son will see her demise, will be all alone. Like she was. Like Emma was.

“No,  _ wait, _ ” Emma brings out, red-rimmed eyes like her own. Henry turns and looks at her and Regina does the same, blinking through the anxiety and fatigue.

“You might not be strong enough. But maybe  _ we _ are.” She stares at Regina, lifts her eyebrows in a question and Regina gasps. Emma has magic. She’d… forgotten. And she’s offering to try. 

It’s better than nothing and Regina nods with a tiny jerk of her head. “Henry, step aside,” she whispers, “take cover.” And Emma steps forward and lifts her hand like Regina does. She hovers her hands over the magic, touches it, feels with her instinct. Regina sees the frown, the fear on Emma’s face as she finds what she’s looking for deep inside and her white magic blasts into the diamond. She shakes, she trembles, she moans - Regina’s not sure if it’s Emma or her gasping for air at some point. Her own magic latches onto Emma’s, trying to steady itself by using the white beams, feed off it and into it simultaneously. She needs to hold on, but her knees buckle and she hears Emma’s voice calling out to her when suddenly, the diamond seems to inverse, instead of destroying magic it gives one giant pulse -

And it explodes, causing Regina and Emma to be blasted away. Regina flies through the air and with a loud thump, she crashes into the muddy floor.

There’s a clank, Regina faintly registers the sound when she tries to push herself up. Groggy, she focuses on the stone that just dropped to the floor. She stares at it in wonder. No light shines from it. It’s as dark as it used to be, when she took it from the cave underneath the library.

They did it.

She closes her eyes. A wave of relief washes over her. She’s not dead. A little bruised, and her body hurts like hell because it took nearly all her magic so she can hardly use it to lift herself up. But she’s alive. She tries to get up her feet and falters. Gritting her teeth, she tries again slowly. “Henry?” she calls out, “are you all right?” 

“Yeah!” he cries out, “But Ma, she’s not waking up!” 

Regina’s stomach drops, moves as fast as she can - limping, crawling - into the direction Henry was hiding before. And there she sees Emma, lying on the floor, motionless, body limp, eyes closed. Her skin has an unnatural pale color and panic overcomes her. More footsteps are approaching, Regina hears when she kneels down next to Emma. Henry wants to tug at her, but Regina pushes his hands away. “Don’t. If she’s broken something we can’t move her,” she whispers, voice faltering. She doesn’t know what to do. “Emma,” she says, an urgent tone in her voice, her hand touching the blonde’s cheek, thumb brushing over pale skin. “Please, wake up, please.” She doesn’t care if it sounds like a plea, like she’s begging Emma. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to die, Henry and Emma should have safely made their way over the town line to begin their lives together.

Then, Henry bends over, presses a kiss on her forehead. Waits. Kisses Emma’s cheek. “It’s not  _ working, _ ” he cries out and tears are brimming in his eyes when he looks at her, frustrated.    
  
Regina recoils, too used to childish accusations stinging like venom as she waits for another one to burn a hole in her chest, but he just throws herself into her arms, overwhelmed by grief. Regina gasps. “It’s not working, sweetheart,” she whispers, “because it’s not magic. True love's kiss... it won't work. She… she hit her head. Hard. She needs to go to the hospital.”

“Emma?”   
  
“Emma!”

David and Snow rush past her, kneel down next to Emma. And there’s the accusation she’s always waiting for when David raises his head and throws her a gaze in which fright and anger are adamant. “Did you-”    
  
“No, she didn’t!” 

And they both find themselves blinking in surprise when Henry steps up for her. “She saved us. She and Emma did! And now she’s hurt. Don’t touch her!” he yells at his grandfather. “You can’t touch her because we don’t know if she’s broken anything!” Regina chokes on her own breath when she hears the violent defense.

“Mom!” He suddenly turns to her. “Can’t you heal her?”

Regina’s heart sinks. “No, Henry,” she says, her voice strained with an apology, “As much as I would want to, I can’t. My magic is dark. Healing requires light magic. I… I wouldn’t know how.” God, how she wishes she did.

“But you saved the town!” he cries out. A hint of betrayal shines in his eyes. “You’re  _ good _ now! The  _ least _ you can do is try!” 

_ He believes in good and bad. Black and white. There’s nothing in between. _ Emma’s voice sounds in her head. As much as she would want to agree with her son, she knows she isn’t. Good. Saving the town isn’t going to be enough to be forgiven, or to forgive herself, as Emma advised her to do. God, she needs Emma to fix this. The irony does not go unnoticed.

But even though she can’t heal Emma, there’s something else she can do, as she tries to restrain herself from touching the blonde.

“I can get us to the hospital,” she quietly offers. It’s going to take her last strength, but it’s  _ Emma _ . “I can transport us there.” 

“Do it,” Snow takes up the offer right away, “Now.”

And Regina does.

~*~

The hospital room, so similar to the one that she recently left, is quiet, save for some beeping monitors and occasional footsteps in the hallway. It feels… very surreal, the way the roles are now reversed, the way she’s now sitting next to Emma’s bed. Regina has hardly left the room since they arrived nearly two days ago. It’s been two days since they’ve saved the town. 

Two days since Emma saved Regina’s life and consequentially, the lives of everyone in this town.    
  
Always the savior, she smiles fondly. Regina, in the end, wasn’t strong enough. Emma was.

Regina hasn’t fully recovered from their rescue mission, either. She still feels tired, but her short naps have given her back some of her energy. Her magic is far from restored, but it’s regenerating itself. When she teleported them to the hospital she couldn’t walk anymore and with the help of two nurses, Henry had lifted her on a bed and she had passed out immediately while Emma was being rushed away. And when she had awoken, remnants of a violent nightmare still lingering in her mind, she had demanded to be brought to Emma’s room where she had to endure another round of accusations of the Charming regime. Henry, her dear boy, had repeated his vehement defense and it’s something she still can’t wrap her head around, but she’s grateful for it and is not going to question him. He’s been visiting every day, and she encourages him to talk to Emma. Who knows, maybe she hears it. Maybe it will help to wake her up.

Snow and David had been in and out of the hospital as well after that particular episode - they are worried sick about their daughter, but they also have a town to run. And for once, Regina’s happy that she doesn’t have to, right now. She told them to go and take the beanstalk in her office to Tiny. The beans may be gone. but the plant is strong. It’ll grow new ones, Regina’s sure. 

She’s refused to leave Emma’s bed. Whale has patched up Emma’s head, but the heavy blow to her head has given her a concussion from which she won’t wake up. A coma, they said, and they have to be patient. And Regina has vowed that she’s going to stay until she wakes. It’s the least she can do after what Emma’s done for her. The nurses even brought her a stretcher so she can rest more comfortably.

Regina has been in and out as well, her exhausted body has claimed a couple of hours of sleep by resting her head on Emma’s bed or taking the stretcher, keeping the blonde’s fingers laced with hers. But every time she does, she wakes up, plagued by darkness, night terrors of what could have happened down in the mines and with the town. And the nightmares worry her because even though she’s been used to having them almost every night, they seem more intense these last few days. It must be because her body is still recovering from the torture and the diamond’s depletion of her magic. 

Between drifting away, she’s learned that Greg and Tamara have disappeared - another reason why Regina’s not letting Emma out of her sight. They can be anywhere but she knows they haven’t left town - they’ve not finished what they came to do. Greg wants her dead, especially after he finds his father’s bones which he probably has, by now. Tamara has tasted the power of magic. While being chained to the table, Regina saw a lot of herself in the young woman's eyes. She remembered the time she had given in to Rumple’s lessons. The start of her demise. Or maybe she had been halfway already. In any case, she knows how the power feels. And knows that Tamara isn’t done with magic yet. It means they must hide somewhere, but they’re doing a good job because nobody can find them.

Her eyes wander over Emma’s still frame, her fingers tighten around the blonde’s. The semi-permanent crease in Emma’s forehead is less prominent, but still there, Regina observes. A remnant of a worrisome life, she thinks with a pang of guilt. A worrisome life she was condemned to by Regina. “You’re a fool, Emma, for wanting to save me,” she murmurs. Because Regina had been willing to sacrifice herself. She was ready to return the favor, to give Henry his best chance with his birth mother. But in the end - she can no longer deny it - it wasn’t just for Henry. Emma had deserved her best chance, as well. Emma, who’s been on her side ever since they accused Regina of Archie’s murder, has wriggled her way into her head, her mind. 

Her  _ heart _ . Regina softly gasps when that particular realization hits her, warms her chest. And when she lets it in, when she thinks it over, she thinks that she might have been falling for Emma ever since the blonde asked her if she trusted her. Or maybe even before. 

Looking past the panicked rage she felt when they first met, she might even think that it started when she first laid eyes on her, when Emma brought Henry home, with a tentative  _ Hi. _

She blinks. She doesn’t know why it happened. It’s a cruel twist of fate to feel attracted, to feel affection - she can’t address it as anything more than that, not now - to the daughter of her arch-nemesis. 

She lowers her head, rests her forehead against the cool metal of the hospital bed, and sighs deeply. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s entitled to  _ nothing _ . Not with her past. Not because of what she’s put Emma through. Condemning her to a loveless life, self-mutilation, hating herself, thinking it was all her own fault. The only thing good that came out of it was Henry - someone she will never regret having found, having in her life. Which is why her mind is torn up over everything - how can she regret everything she unknowingly put Emma through and not regretting having Henry, who was a product of Emma’s violent past?

Shaking her head, Regina lets her mind wander to her son. Henry. She’s touched him more in these last two days than they have this entire year and Regina is more than thankful for it. They’ve talked a lot, here in Emma’s room. He has confidence in her that she’ll redeem herself. That she can defy the darkness. Has tried to make her promise not to use magic anymore, but this time she’s refused him a promise she can’t keep. “Magic is emotion, Henry,” she had quietly said. “My magic is tethered to who I am, to what I feel. I can’t promise to give up a part of me.” 

He had frowned. “But… you’ll just use your magic for good then?” Regina had smiled and had promised him to at least always try.

A soft sigh leaves her lips, her eyes trailing over the still figure in the bed. “Please wake up,” she whispers. There’s so much that they need to talk about. Why every time they kiss, it is out of despair in whatever form. Regina’s lips tingle from the memories. What it means. She still believes Emma is too good for her, but the blonde’s stubbornness has forced its way under Regina’s skin. “Henry needs you,” she murmurs, her breath brushing over their entwined fingers. Her thumb softly caresses Emma’s. Regina lifts Emma’s hand, presses a soft kiss in her palm. “And maybe…,” she whispers, “Maybe I need you too.” 

The door suddenly opens and she looks up as she instantly withdraws her hand from Emma’s. Her lips pull up in a snarl as she recognizes who it is. “No. Go away. Now.” 

“I won’t,” Neal says quietly with the stubborn air she knows from him - the same one Henry has, she laments. She instinctively raises her free hand in the chokehold, not having forgotten his last words before her abduction and torture. He will not take her son away from this town. She won’t have it. But she sees how he flinches and hesitates.  _ You’ll just use your magic for good then? _ Henry’s voice dances in her head.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snarls instead, eyes ablaze. He glares at her, distrustful. An emotion that’s far too familiar to her and raises her hackles even more.

“I wanted to see how Emma’s doing,” he replies, eyes shifting to the bed. “We’ve… hung out, these past weeks. Gotten to know each other again. I’m… worried. Henry’s… kept me up to date.” He lifts his phone. Of course Henry has his father’s number. Regina grits her teeth.

But Regina is surprised that her chest tightens with something that she would not have associated with Emma Swan, ever before. Jealousy. “She’s been here for two days and this is the first visit you can schedule in your busy life?” Regina snaps, sarcasm dripping from her words, coming to Emma’s defense. “What the hell do you want?”

“A chance,” Neal murmurs, staring at Emma and Regina inhales sharply as he goes on, never taking his eyes from Emma. He even has the audacity to take a step or two towards the bed and Regina feels powerless, curls and uncurls her fists, digs her nails into the palm of her hand as he continues, “A chance to get my family back. It was never supposed to happen like it did. I never wanted to... I really loved her, you know…” His voice wavers and Regina feels how bile raises to her throat as he goes on, not knowing how his words affect her. 

“When Emma first told me about her suspicions about Tamara, I didn’t believe her, and now… She’s always been right. Before… and now, as well.” There’s an affection in his words that stabs holes in Regina’s stomach. “And Henry hinted that if Tamara  _ was _ evil, then she and I might have another shot. I mean, Tamara’s betrayal still hurts like a bitch, but…” He waves a helpless hand, his eyes flicking between Regina’s blazing eyes to the still figure on the bed. “Emma’s the one I never could get over.”

Regina’s thoughts explode as her heart drops through the floor. Neal, the prodigal son, returned to Storybrooke and returned to his  _ family. _ Henry, who apparently voiced his thoughts of Emma and Neal getting together, implying he wants them all together. Of course, he would want that. It’s what every child wants - a whole family, a  _ normal _ family. And she’ll be on the outside, looking in, as she always does. Her own thought of not being entitled to  _ anything  _ resonates in her skull. Her stomach turns, her heart squeezes painfully. She curves her tensed fingers, feels the magic crackle from her fingertips, withstanding the urge to snap his neck, rip his heart out and squeeze it - oh, the darkness in her longs to do it - to make sure he won’t ever come close to Emma again but she can’t. She breathes shallowly as the betrayal nauseatingly runs through her.

_ You’ll just use your magic for good then? _

This man threatened to take her son before. Now, he’s doing it again. Only this time, he also wants Emma.

He’s going to take  _ everything _ she cares about, she realizes as he reaches over to take Emma’s hand, much like Regina has these past two days. Horrified, she sees how he intertwines his fingers with Emma’s.

A cold hand folds around her chest as she stares at the man in front of her. Her eyes flick to the bed. Emma is still unconscious. It would be  _ so easy _ to flick her wrist. To break his neck. And it would be  _ so easy _ to get rid of his body. with just a wave of her hand. Nobody would ever know, a voice in the back of her head lisps. 

The magic surges inside her, courses through her veins. She grits her teeth, forces her emotions back. She gets up quickly, needs more space between the fool on the other side of the room and herself.

And then, Emma’s eyes start to flutter lightly. Her eyes fly from him to her and back to him and she suppresses the urge to lean over and grab Emma’s other hand - she can’t. The fact that she wakes up now Neal’s here, now Gold’s offspring has  _ touched  _ her - she can’t bear thinking about what that means. She can’t show weakness in front of him, can’t show her raging emotions to either of them. Instead, her lips curl in a sneer. “Well. It seems you’re in luck. She’s waking up. I guess you can  _ talk. _ ” 

And then, she does the only thing that makes sense right now - she whirls around strides out of the room, to protect both Neal from her hurt, her magic, and herself from humiliation as she feels how a tear slips from her eye. Her chest squeezes painfully, the feelings are suffocating her. The loneliness has returned with full force and it terrorizes her soul. She violently rubs the tears off her face, stalks out of the hospital.

She paces up and down in front of the hospital's main entrance, raises her hands, buries her hands in her hair and her hands curl into fists. Gritting her teeth, she welcomes the pain, makes her head a little clearer. Fool, fool,  _ fool. _ Despite their progress, Henry would never choose her. Emma would never have. Blood will be blood. Family comes first.

And she has none.

The panic of losing Henry and, which comes as another shockwave - Emma, makes her magic surge up. she feels it all inside her and she realizes it was a pretty close call when she decided not to lash out to Neal. And that frightens her. She should expect relapses, Emma had told her, but she was sure cold-blooded murder was not just a relapse. She needs to get herself under control again.

And then, her feet start to carry her away to the only place she can think of, the only place that makes  _ sense _ right now - 

Archie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Trigger warnings! This chapter is probably one of the heaviest in this story, deals with physical and mental abuse, including extensive descriptions of rape. Skip to the end if that triggers you.

“I’m… happy to see you, Regina.” 

Regina grants Archie a brief look. It’s been nearly a week since they spoke on the phone. Her… abduction made her miss her appointment. She walks past him without a word, into his office, emotions still running high, pulling at her heartstrings. Her back is stiff, her fists tight while she tries to regain some control. 

She stops in the middle in the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Nothing much has changed here. The same furniture - the couch, the table, Archie’s chair, a desk - the same trinkets on the shelves. The diploma she’d created for him in the curse, proudly hanging on the wall. Pongo on his pillow. She momentarily holds her breath as her eyes linger on the dog.

The dog eyes her with soulful eyes, and she chokes on her breath. “I… don’t know if I can do this,” she murmurs, taking a step back, eyes still fixated on the Dalmatian, agony burning inside her stomach. 

“Regina, we both know-”   
  
“Maybe this is a mistake,” she says, eyes flicking from the dog to Archie, who eyes her sympathetically. He adjusts the glasses on his nose.

“And yet, you’re here. Why?” he gently inquires.

Regina closes her eyes. Feels the magic still coursing frantically through her body. She swallows thickly. “Because I have nowhere else to go,” she murmurs, shoulders sagging in defeat. “And I don’t know… I almost killed someone today. And I… I can’t go back there.”

Pongo suddenly barks, and it startles her. And while her eyes fly back to the dog, he jumps up, and jogs towards them. Regina stiffens as the large dog slows down and sniffs at her hand, before licking her fingers. She looks up at Archie, who lifts a corner of his mouth. Despite the half-smile, he looks a little sad. She jerks her hand back from Pongo and folds her hands together, presses them against her stomach.

“If you’re uncomfortable around Pongo-” he starts, but she shakes her head.

“The dog can stay.” 

Because in the end, it’s not Pongo’s fault. It’s the fault of the fools who couldn’t interpret the dog’s memory correctly - which was everyone, except one. One foolish enough to stay in those godforsaken mines and got herself hurt. For her.

She takes the final steps to the couch, sits down in the middle, not bothering with pulling her coat off. Her back is stiff, she sits straight up. She's still not really sure if it’s a good thing that she’s here. 

Archie takes place in his chair, next to the couch, and he folds his hands in his laps, his notepad just a little away. She averts her eyes and instead, she focuses on Pongo. The dog slowly wags his tail. Lazily makes his way over to the couch and he sits down next to her. Automatically, she extends a hand and scratches behind his ears. It’s strangely soothing.

Her mind is so full that she doesn’t know what she wants to talk about so instead, she gives her attention to the dog. Surprised that she feels some of the tension subside, she bows her head. 

"Henry told me you saved Storybrooke.”

Her head snaps up when he breaks the silence. “I didn’t,” she replies sternly, shaking her head. “Emma did.”

“Did she?”

“Her magic was stronger than mine. Strong enough to deactivate the trigger. Mine wasn’t.”

Archie eyes her pensively. “You slowed down the trigger to give Emma ample time to search for a portal to save everyone.”

Regina scoffs, a little flustered. “Hardly. I didn’t do it for the town, doctor,” she corrects him. “I did it to give Emma and Henry ample time to leave. I hardly care about any of these insipid fools.”

Archie smiles as if he knows something that she doesn’t and it’s frustrating. “Then why didn’t you just drive them to the town border yourself?”

“There wasn’t any time.” She sounds a little unsure now. Wraps her coat a little closer around her body. Right? There wasn’t time. She’s sitting so stiffly that her shoulders start to ache. “They wanted to find a way to save everyone.” She repeats it in her head over and over again.

“You gave them time to search for Greg and Tamara and to retrieve a magic bean. The fact that they couldn’t find any is not your fault. If they had found one, they’d have had ample time to leave Storybrooke. Now that they didn’t, it gave Emma enough time to return to the mind and help you stop it. You did _good_ , Regina.”

She shrugs a little flustered, unfamiliar with accepting genuine compliments.

“And let me also comment on the fact that you intended to kill someone and didn’t. Instead, you came here. That was the right decision to make.” He readjusts his glasses. She shifts on the couch, a little uncomfortable. 

“If I hadn’t retrieved the trigger, none of it would’ve happened in the first place,” she snaps, the praise getting on her nerves. “How’s that any _good?”_

“It’s progress,” Archie smiles, not bothered with her tone of voice. “Because in the end, you didn’t activate it. Someone else did. And you helped to make it stop.” He takes his glasses off his nose, retrieves a tiny microfiber cloth, and starts cleaning them. “Therapy is never a straight line upwards. You’ve had your habits for so long, they’re difficult to break through. But you did. Tell me, Regina. Do you still refer to yourself as the Evil Queen?”

The question is unexpected and she blinks in surprise. “Sometimes. Why?” 

“Well, generally, if you want others to see you in a different light, you have to show them that you _are._ Different, I mean.” He studies his glasses, puts them on again. 

“How? I don’t know how _not_ to be the Evil Queen. I’ve been her most of my grown-up life.” She scoffs bitterly.

“Well, that’s what I am here for,” he says with a little smile. “It’s not easy, to turn your self-image around,” he replies, “but that’s okay. We have time. And I’ll help you as much as you’ll allow me.” 

_I got you._ Emma’s voice whispers in her head. Will she still, when she gets her family back? The images of Neal taking Emma’s hand and Emma waking up make her grit her teeth. Pain slides through her chest and she suppresses a gasp. Her emotions well up inside her, spill out before she has the chance to force them back, run over her face. She can’t think of Emma right now. Needs to focus on the man in front of her. She wills her face into a blank slate, but she knows that Archie has seen it. 

The freaking bug sees everything.

“If I’m not the Evil Queen anymore… then who am I?” she whispers. 

He smiles at her, eyes kind and encouraging. “You’ll simply be Regina.”

 _Let me die as Regina,_ she had told Emma but truth to be told, she doesn’t know who that is anymore. Doesn’t know how to _be_ her anymore. Regina was weak, and she went a long way to hide those weaknesses ever since her childhood.

“Being Regina has never been simple,” Regina retorts with a bitter scoff. “People have always… used her. Mother. Snow White. The…” King, she wants to say, but she can’t. She swallows. “And it probably never will be easy.”

“The hardest part of this world is to live in it,” Archie hums in agreement. “But it’s easier when you have friends to support you. And correct me if I’m wrong, but you have, now. It doesn’t have to be so hard as it used to be.”

 _I called because I thought you might need a friend._ It hasn’t been so long ago since Emma said these words, but it might as well be an eternity. She sighs, shivering. Panic flares, revulsion unsettles her as she thinks about Neal and Emma, Henry between them. There’s always been too much between Emma and her to ever be just friends, she knows that now. At least from her side. But there’s Henry to consider. She’ll fight tooth and nail for an arrangement that she can still see him. She is still his mother. And he is in her corner, at least right now. 

So is Emma, she reluctantly accepts. Emma’s always been there for her. And maybe, eventually, she can accept Emma’s friendship without a heavy, longing heart. 

“I’d like that,” she admits finally. “Not to have it be this hard. This… complicated.”

Archie smiles, writing something in his notepad. “Remember that it’s not going to change overnight.” She nods in understanding. 

“What I’d like to do, if you agree, is to focus on your emotions. Your magic is entwined with them, you told me before... but their intensity is what sometimes makes it uncontrollable, is it not?”

Regina stares at him for a moment, then, narrows her eyes. “I suppose,” she murmurs a little unwilling. 

“We are going to have to discuss your past in the process.” He intently looks at her reaction. Her nostrils flare momentarily in realization, and he adds, “Remember that we can’t change anything from the past. We can just acknowledge and learn from it. And maybe, in the process, you understand yourself better and you’ll be able to forgive yourself.”

She shakes her head automatically. “Lately, I’ve been wishing I could.”

“What, exactly?” 

“Change the past.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve realized that I really, _really_ don’t like myself.” It is a grave understatement. “And I, I don’t know… if I could have stopped myself before the point of no return, then maybe I’d have had a better life.”

“Regina-”

She deflates against the backrest of the couch. “How can I possibly forgive myself? _Like_ myself again?” She hears how defeated she sounds. Hates herself for revealing her weaknesses, but he makes it so… _easy_ , in a way, to talk. 

“That’s what we’re going to work on,” Archie says gently. “It’s part of the process. And we’re going to start at the beginning if you can. We’re going back to where it all started. The first steps are to acknowledge your past and your emotions. Let’s start there.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ready. Doesn’t know if she’ll ever be. But she looks into Archie’s gentle, trusting eyes and she takes a deep breath. “All right.”

~*~

She starts tentative, not really sure where to start. But Archie’s patient, gentle questions help her through. He asks about her youth. About Cora. About why she said Cora used her. And she tells him the story of a mother who had specific plans for her daughter and would do anything to make them come true. About a father who loved her, but was too weak - or maybe her mother simply was too powerful - to stand up for his daughter, to protect her.

Some things are hard to remember. But Greg’s violent torture has brought back memories she’s buried in the corners of her mind, long ago. The restraints have made her remember the days she was chained to the wall, forced into obedience when she had been out of line. Days without food and just a little water until her defiant nature had quelled. “My mother’s ways of keeping me in check were… unusual. Highly effective. Torture, you would probably call it. She always told me she always had my best interests in her mind.” She laughs bitterly. “And I believed it.” 

Her schedules were strict, her freedom limited, she had no friends because every tentative friendship had immediately been eradicated by her mother. The only thing Cora indulged in was a horse, Rocinante. But only because a lady should know how to ride sidesaddle, which she did, but she preferred to ride him bareback. It was the only time she really felt free, one of the few ways in which she could defy her mother. The confession draws a small smirk from her which Archie returns, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets her find her own words as he pushes his glasses a little further up his nose.

She falls silent, not knowing how to continue. Not knowing if she really wants to. But Archie patiently waits, lets her sort out her own thoughts. “I met Daniel when I was sixteen,” she murmurs, hands pressed to her stomach. Her shoulders ache from the tension. Archie tilts his head. He knows about Daniel because she’s told him about her first love. After she killed him when Whale had brought him back to life, she had broken down on this couch.

“How did you to meet?” he softly encourages her, a story that he partially knows but which she’s never completely revealed. She smiles, momentarily lost in thought. It’s one of the few good memories of her youth.

“When I first met him, I thought he wanted to steal my horse. Nobody had told me that he had started working. I freaked out when I saw him saddling Rocinante. I took a shovel and hit him in the back. Screamed at him.” He had been sleeping next to one of her father’s horses. Straws of hay in his hair, lit up by the early sunrays of a warm spring day. She remembered vividly. And after his first shock, he winced, and then he laughed at her - the _audacity -_ , said he just started working at the stables and told her to prepare for her next lesson, because she’d get it from him. He’d known Rocinante was hers from the start, without anyone informing her because of the way the horse had neighed when she’d stepped inside. _You’re a horse whisperer?_ she had snorted, but she had smiled at him while he’d shrugged.   
  
“I didn’t love him right away,” she quietly says. “He just… was so different from anyone I’d ever met. He was optimistic, vibrant with life, easy. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He made me laugh, he made me cry, he was always there for me and I always wanted to be there for him as well. Our love gradually grew, also because we were both hesitant. My mother… She could not know about any of it and she never figured it out before, until…”   
  
Until she had rescued Snow White from a runaway horse, her mother had accepted a proposal in marriage from the king in her name because Leopold’s daughter wished it, and Snow had found out about Regina and Daniel in the stable. Until a spilled secret had ruined her life, ripped it to shreds. 

Bile rises in her throat, the memory at the forefront of her mind. She stops talking, relives that fateful night in the stable. Cora, pulling out Daniel’s heart, crushing it until there was nothing more than dust spilling between her curved fingers. His body falling on the floor, limp. She’d rushed towards him, had clutched his body tight to her own. Tears blur her vision. She nearly chokes on her breath. “I… I can’t…”

Archie nods, face compassionately. “Maybe it’s enough for today.”

Regina bows her head, lowers her gaze to the floor as her insides twist and turn. She feels the heartbreak, the sorrow as if it was yesterday. The agony burns deep down inside, makes her relive the powerlessness from that night. Love is weakness, Cora had said. She had vowed never to be this powerless, weak again. But she would be, she remembers, a violent shiver running over her back. 

Archie gives her some water, which she gratefully accepts. Her breath is shaky and she desperately clings to the glass, curls her fingers around it for support. A tear slips from her eye. Daniel had been the love of her life and her mother had killed him without thinking twice. 

On autopilot, Regina gets up. “Regina, you shouldn’t be alone right now,” Archie says softly.

Regina barks out a humorless laugh. “In case you have forgotten, doctor, the only one remotely interested in my well-being is in the hospital and my son is still living with her deranged parents. I don’t have a lot of options, do I?” 

“I’ll walk you home, then.”  
  
“You don’t have to-”   
  
“Pongo needs to go out anyway,” he calmly interrupts. 

Regina looks at him, eyes red-rimmed from tears she hasn’t spilled yet. She holds his gaze for a couple of seconds but she doesn’t see anything else than empathy. Finally, she nods. “Fine,” she murmurs, too shaken up to decline his kind offer. She just wants to go home, take a long, hot shower, and curl up into bed.

And that’s exactly what she does, after Archie walked her to her porch. But she doesn’t sleep much. Memories of that fateful night combined with Daniel's resurrection by Whale plague her and she wakes up several times during the night. She tells herself it’s a response to the violent emotions she has experienced - first in the hospital with Neal and Emma, then because of her session with Archie. She scoffs. And that’s even one of the days in Regina Mills’ miserable life.

Only after she takes two glasses of her own cider, she sleeps well into the next day. It’s something that she doesn’t want to make a habit of, but right now, it’s the little things that count. A couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep is high on her list.  
  
She feels unbalanced after that first session. As if she’s walking with one leg on the pavement, one in the gutter on impossibly high heels. So she calls Archie in an impulse, and he asks her immediately how she’s doing. She gives a vague answer. “I want to continue,” she says, more firmly than she feels. 

“And I’d be happy to help, but you shouldn’t force-”

“I’m telling you that I’m fine, doctor Hopper,” Regina interrupts, staring out of her kitchen window. The apple tree stands tall and proud, and she won’t be any less than it. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

She knows she’s pushing it, but she also knows she has nothing to lose. Nothing else to do. It takes time, Archie has said. It will, she knows that. But if she doesn’t do this, if she doesn’t discuss the next episode of her past fairly quickly, she’ll lose her courage and won’t return at all. And when Archie finally reluctantly gives in, she breathes in relief. 

When she ends the call, she sees she has two missed ones.   
  
Emma. 

She can’t bring herself to call her back. Not yet. Not now. Not now she feels so unsettled, so vulnerable. She doesn’t want to hear about Neal and his declaration of love or whatever he has poured over her. She feels nauseous enough about _that_ situation as it is.

She’s restless, goes out to take a walk, and automatically heads to the docks, but this time - maybe because of what happened the last time, maybe because the cannery where she was being tortured is too close - the docks cannot take her agony away. The water does not soothe her nerves - maybe because there’s hardly any wind. The soft, cobbling waves are a sharp contrast to her own spiking emotions. So she turns and starts walking, not really sure where she’s going to but in the end, it doesn’t matter.

Daniel is on her mind all the time. In a way, she has always carried him and what happened to him with her, but she never really talked about anyone about him like she has to Archie. About what he’d meant to her. She feels guilty - if she hadn’t asked him to leave with her he would have been safe. Snow would have never found out about him and he would still be alive. If she could have let him go, he’d probably have a family by now. He’d be a great father, she sighs, tears pooling in her eyes. Sorrow overcomes her and she grieves for him like she hasn’t ever done before. Because she couldn’t - after she’d barely had the time to bury him she was married off to the King and became a stepmother to a girl who wasn’t able to deal with anything else than sunshine and rainbow kisses. Snow White was a very protected, very spoiled princess. In a way, she still is.

She walks and walks, lets her thoughts run free. She thinks about the second time she had to say goodbye, not so long ago in Storybrooke. Again, she didn’t have much time to grieve for him because soon after, Archie went missing and she was accused of murder. _Love again_ , he had told her in the stables, just before she turned him to dust _._ But it would feel like betrayal to his gentle soul. The guilt of his death was still too fresh in her mind. Of both his deaths. Because there might have been another way. A certain blonde had convinced her that there always was. It was a recent development - if only she had known it then.

She doesn’t know how long she’s walking, but she suddenly realizes she has reached the ‘Leaving Storybrooke’ sign. She stops walking, momentarily leans against the sign, forehead pressed to the cold metal. Her body radiates warmth from the exercise, but her cheeks are cold. When she lifts her gloved hands to touch her face, she notices that she’s crying and she hasn’t even noticed. Her eyes sting. She snorts, it sounds like a half-sob. And briefly, she wonders what would have happened if she and Daniel had succeeded in leaving before Snow or Cora finding out. What would have become of them? Of her? Because in the end, she knows Cora would have found them. It had been a stupid fantasy of two young kids in love, she laments. They would have never stood a chance against one of the most powerful witches alive.

Her eyes follow the red line that marks the end of Storybrooke. She walks closer, remembers Sneezy, who still doesn’t have his memories back. What a bliss, not to have memories, she muses. What would happen if she would cross? She would lose the pain, the hardship of having her son taken away. She wouldn’t remember anything. No Enchanted Forest, no gruesome past, no redemption. She never had cursed memories to go back to. Maybe her memory would be wiped entirely. Tabula Rasa, a clean slate. Just... face away in the blissful nothingness. _You’ll simply be Regina,_ Archie murmurs in her head. 

It’s so tempting. As if she wants to test it out, she extends a hand over the line. It doesn’t feel any different, though. 

But she can’t. It’s the coward’s way out, she knows, to just leave it all behind. Henry would forever be lost to her and he’d never see her again. Or if he did, she wouldn’t remember him if she’d pass him in the street. She wouldn’t remember Emma.

She sighs, shakes her head, then turns. Time to go home. She ponders briefly to teleport back, but she dreads the empty house, her empty life. So she walks back, feels the blisters on her feet and ploughs onward. The physical pain distracts her from her emotions. And when she finally does give in because her body can’t go on anymore, she twists her hand and brings herself home in a purple cloud, where she prepares a hot bath and sinks herself into the blasting hot water.

It’s hardly time for dinner when she finishes, but Regina is not hungry, despite the exercise. Her skin is red from the hot water when she climbs into her bed, exhausted both mentally and physically. The cool sheets feel like a balm to her body and soul. And if there are nightmares, she is too exhausted to remember them when she wakes up the next morning.

~*~

Her appointment with Archie isn’t until halfway the afternoon which gives her ample time to grow nervous. Anxious, she’s folded her hands in her lap as she sits up straight, back tensed, waiting for Archie to start. But he observes her, offers her a small smile. 

“How are you feeling, Regina?”  
  
“I’m fine,” she tersely says. She’s not, but at least she’s slept well. She still feels emotionally drained from what she experienced over the last two days, but she doesn’t want to acknowledge that.

“We talked about Daniel before. Do you want to go back there?”  
  
“No.” She sounds firm. She’s spent the last day thinking about Daniel, and there’s nothing more she wants to share about him.

“All right. What do you want to talk about?”

She doesn’t really know. Closes her eyes, breathes in deeply. Images of a ten-year-old Snow invade her mind. “I told Snow Daniel had to leave, after mother... And that was that.” 

“Was it?” Archie quietly asks. 

“No,” Regina admits after a short pause. “I was angry. Resentful. I fantasized many times of strangling her, the entitled, spoiled little princess. Even before I was married, she would often seek me out, her innocence taunting me.” Regina scoffs, stares at her tensed fingers which have automatically curled into a choking hold. Doesn’t really know where these words are coming from. She bares her teeth. “I fantasized of snapping her little neck for what she’d done to me.”

Acknowledging her feelings is as if barely healed scars are being roughly scratched open and now they are bleeding. And no matter how much pressure she applies, those feelings, her emotions are seeping through her fingers, invading her mind.

“You didn’t have the time to grieve,” Archie says. “And you were confronted with the one you held responsible every day.”

“Yes.” And her vengeful nature had wanted to settle the score. An eye for an eye. It would’ve been so easy to wrap a cord around the girl’s neck whenever she’d insisted Regina brush her hair. Whenever she wanted Regina to take a walk with her. Whenever she wanted Regina to do _anything_ with her. Maybe if she had gone through with her murderous thoughts she’d be dead right now, but at least her surge for revenge had never come to pass.   
  
God, there was always so much anger.

Anger towards her mother for forcing her to marry a King under the pretense that she wanted what’s best for her. Anger towards the man himself for wanting to marry a girl not even of age because it’s what his daughter wished. Helpless, impotent frustration because she was alone, no one to acknowledge what her wishes were. Not even the morning before the wedding when she had begged her mother, begged the guards in front of her door, to let her go.

If only they had let her go.

Regina swallows. “I tried to reason with Snow. Told her I didn’t want to marry her father. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to be her mother. Why I didn’t want to be a queen. All would be well, she told me. She even patted my hand, as if she could reassure me. Self-centered condescending little brat,” she bitterly adds.

There’s a soft nose against her hands and blinking, she sees that Pongo has sat down next to her and begs for attention. She smiles automatically upon gazing into his puppy eyes, lifts a hand to scratch behind his ears. His presence is therapy on itself, she thinks as she bends forward, pushes her face in his soft fur.

“I was so scared,” she murmurs, face buried, hardly aware of Archie’s presence. She can barely remember the morning of her wedding. It’s a blur of fear, pure panic, flashes of herself walking to the aisle, towards a man so much older than she was, and that was even before she fully understood what being a wife meant. She sits up straight again, folds her arms in front of her body.

She found that out later that night, when she was brought to the king’s quarters. With Daniel, she had never shared more than kisses. She had no idea what was expected of her. What he wanted from her. But she had found out, that wedding night.

Pain radiates from her arms and when she looks down, she sees how her arms are folded, how her nails have dug into her upper arms. “I was brought to him,” she tries, voice shaking, and then she falls silent, cheeks burning, unable to look Archie in the eyes. The silence weighs heavily on her shoulders. She’d been so young. Robbed of a choice. Forced into a role by people who should love her, care for her, stand up for her. She starts to shake violently as she remembers his weight. His skin, leathery from age, shifting over hers. His hands trailing over her body, and when she tried to push him off, slapped his eyes away in an instinctive revulsion, he had calmly taken her wrists. Told her in a soft voice that she was a good girl, she would be a good wife. A good mother. Her own pleas to stop, _please,_ ring in her ears. She gulps. The pain. 

God, the pain.

She feels sick to her stomach and swallows, again and again until she trusts she won’t spill her stomach contents on Archie’s office floor. She breathes loudly, heaves in gulps of fresh air through her nose. The memories brutally invade her mind, as if she’s there. She doesn't have to voice any of them. A quick, agonized look to Archie and she knows that he knows.

She feels dirty. Experiences it, relives it as if it was yesterday instead of so, so long ago. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she quietly tells Archie, eyes burning, gaze averted, cheeks hot with shame. But her emotions are laid bare, and the memories fresh on her mind. She lifts a trembling hand to push her hair behind her air, inhales a shuddering breath when she fails. She lowers her gaze to the ground, blinks heavily to get the images out of her head. And roughly recoils, raises a warning hand as Archie wants to come closer in support. She doesn’t want to be touched right now. She can’t be touched right now.

Instinctively, she jumps up, moves to the window, and presses her heated forehead to the cool glass. Takes her time to regain her breath as she follows the figures on the street. 

"Regina, you don’t have to-”

“Rumple knew exactly when to approach me,” Regina changes the subject abruptly, clenching her teeth. “I was isolated and alone. He could smell a whiff of despair from miles away. I imagine that he could sense mine from all over the realm. He latched onto that. Fed me with attention. I was so _stupid_ ,” she murmurs, self-loathing evident in her voice. “I was an easy prey. He easily manipulated me, molded an innocent, scared girl to his likings, to do his every bidding. It only took a little personal attention and he got me right in the palm of his hand,” she bitterly said, shaking her head, disgusted with herself. She feels the sheen of sweat on her forehead, a drop running down her spine. All she wants is a shower. Curl up under blaring hot rivulets of water, curled up into a ball. To wash the memories away, put them back into the darkest, most hidden parts of her mind, never to think of them again.

“That’s hardly your fault,” Archie tells her gently. 

She turns, her back to the window, eyes red-rimmed. Can barely meet his empathic gaze. She doesn’t want his pity. “I was gullible enough to believe him. I made it too easy.” There’s a fierceness in her eyes. “It’s on me. I should have been stronger.”

Archie’s eyes linger on her face and then suddenly, there’s a hint of understanding. “Regina… it almost looks like you want to be held accountable for the King’s actions. For Rumplestiltskin’s actions. Is that so?”

“Why don’t you, cricket?” she spits at him, suddenly, moving back to the couch and dropping down ungracefully. “You know how it was like in the Enchanted Forest! Arranged marriages weren’t uncommon, especially not in our circles. You know that -- _you know that!_ ” she shrieks. “And yet, out of all those arranged, unhappy marriages, I was the only one who became the Evil Queen. Why do you think that is? I’m a villain. So yes. It is my fault!” She slams her hand onto the table in front of her and it startles them all, including Pongo, who barks in distress.

Her words hang heavily in the air and Archie leans back. “Just because something is common doesn't make it right.” He eyes her calmly, shifts, crosses his legs as he lays the notebook on his lap, takes his glasses from his nose and starts to clean them. God, he’s always cleaning his glasses. "You were a victim of abuse."

The words send more shivers down her spine. Victims are weak. And she should know since she had so many of them suffer her wrath.

“If anything, I should have fought harder. I shouldn’t have let him- I shouldn’t have made it so _easy_ for Rumple to-” She chokes on a sob. “He was the Dark One. I should’ve known-”

“Rumple is a master manipulator,” Archie tells her. “You barely stood a chance.”  
  
There’s a short silence. Then, Regina scoffs, but before she can say anything, Archie sits up a little straighter. “Regina, Your emotions are so strong. You feel them with an intensity not many do. Your mother tried to force you into submission and yet, she could never truly break your spirit. You married a king against your will, and yet, here you are, in therapy, working through it.”

“I’m a real survivor,” Regina growls with a roll of her eyes, but he eyes her intently and it makes her uneasy. “Why, doctor Hopper,” she slowly says with a snort, “are you telling me none of it is my fault?”

“Physical and mental abuse is not your fault,” Archie replies. “I can’t say anything about what you’ll reveal in your future sessions, but yes. This was not your fault. Don’t make it your fault.” He eyes her, studies her intently, opens his mouth as if he wants to say something and then he doesn’t. She has no patience for it.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, doctor Hopper,” she snaps, unsettled because of what he’s told her. “I’m not holding back. Neither should you.” 

He seems a little flustered himself and she doesn’t understand why. But then, he sighs, pushes his glasses further on his nose. “I wanted to say that your desire for revenge toward the people who hurt you is understandable, and so is your retaliatory behavior.”

Regina barks out a laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. Nobody had ever taken the time to listen to her side of the story. Or well, Emma had, but she knew nothing about this particular history, about these details. And here, a cricket with a fake degree, obtained in her curse, told her that it was understandable that she had spiraled into her vengeful frenzy. 

Of course, she hadn’t reached the part yet that she’d committed mass murder to get to Snow, to rile her up, draw her out of hiding - she wonders if he then still sees it as _understandable,_ wonders if he will turn his back to her when she will reveal that particular gruesome bit of her dark history. The step that had finalized her rise as the Evil Queen.

She doesn’t nod, just stares at him first, flicks her eyes away to Pongo. She brushes her hand over his head. “I’m tired,” she murmurs, grabbing her coat with her free hand. She suddenly feels the need for fresh air.

“Do you want me to -”  
  
“No. Not today, doctor,” Regina interjects primly. “Thank you.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Regina. To see how you’re doing. And if you feel alright, we can schedule a new session. You’re going to have to promise to call me if you experience any fallout from what you’ve been sharing. Because now it’s so close to the surface, it might-”   
  
“Yes, thank you, doctor,” Regina murmurs, cheeks burning with embarrassment, shame. “Good day.”

She abruptly turns, yanks the door open and leaves, nearly runs down the stairs. With force she throws the door open and stands on the pavement, face turned up at the sky, heaving in the crisp autumn air. 

All she wants is to wash the memories away. She feels filthy, feels like her body isn’t her own now these violently repressed memories have been discussed - and not even into detail. The more violent ones she only sees in her mind as soon as she closes her eyes. And even though she wants to curl up in her bed and cry for a girl who never really had a chance, she knows the memories will be waiting around the corner to haunt her. 

She hesitates. Doesn’t want to be suffocated by the memories in the empty mansion. 

But it’s not as if she has a lot of choices. There’s nowhere else to go but home, as she told Archie two days ago. And so she turns, her feet automatically start moving into the direction of her house on Mifflin Street. Dreading the empty house, dreading her memories.

And then her phone beeps. She doesn’t stop moving when she fishes it out of her pocket and taps the message.

 _Where are you?_ A choked sob as she can’t help but shake her head through her tears - she didn’t even know she was crying - at the message. Emma. Of course, it’s her. Regina has never called her back and if there’s something Emma’s good at, is at not giving up on her. Dogging her until she gets what she wanted.

 _I am on my way home. How are you?_ she replies neutrally.

The answer comes after a few seconds. _Tired and hungry. Wanna come for dinner? The menu sucks, but the company’s worth it. :)_

She shouldn’t. She doesn’t want to face Neal, smug because the family unit is complete once more. And emotionally she’s a mess. She hasn’t felt this vulnerable in a long while. She needs to go home. She’s mentally exhausted.

But it’s Emma. And she can’t deny Emma anything, especially when the other option is a dreadful one at home. Lurking shadows, waiting to reel her in.

 _I can bring you something greasy from Granny’s,_ she replies impulsively and stops walking, because she’s still close enough to Granny’s, turns on her heels. 

_Bring me a grilled cheese and I’ll be forever in your debt,_ comes Emma’s swift answer. Regina rolls her eyes, but she reads the message amused. It is a welcome distraction from the coiling emotions in her stomach, chest, and mind. The predictability of Emma’s choice of food grounds her. As do any of her messages, apparently, both online and offline. It pulls Regina from her coiling inner emotions and she gladly accepts the change. Every minute of normalcy, whatever situation she will find in the hospital, is better than nothing.

 _I’ll hold you to that,_ she types back, and then she hesitates. And she starts typing. Because she needs to know what to expect. _Anything for Henry and Neal?_

_Neal’s not here. Henry would like a burger and fries._

Regina sighs in relief. She’ll indulge Henry this time because she is grateful she doesn’t have to deal with his biological father right now. She starts to walk towards Granny, forces the emotions behind a stoic, regal mask before she enters, and places the order to go. 

~*~

“Don’t you want to eat anything?” Emma says after she’s taken her first bite and moaned in a way that sent a shiver down Regina’s spine. Regina shakes her head in disgust. 

“Seeing you eat that artery-clogging food makes my stomach turn. I’ll eat later,” she says with a wrinkled nose. "God, you eat like a child."

“I can save you some of my fries,” Henry adds helpfully. “You can heat them up later. Though they won’t be as good anymore.” He told her he’s been visiting the hospital after school these last few days, ever since Emma woke up. The blonde informed her that the nurses had to call David to almost drag him away these past two days. 

“That is very kind of you, dear, but please finish them yourself.” Regina smiles at him, runs her fingers through his hair, and turns to Emma again. “You look awfully chipper for someone who’s been in a coma.” She eyes her warily. The blonde does look tired, but Regina suspects that she puts up a front for Henry. 

Emma shrugs. “Guess I’m blessed with a hard head,” she says, after swallowing another piece of her cheese sandwich. It’s like she is inhaling the darn thing. Regina’s not really sure if a fat-filled abomination like that is what’s best for her stomach but still, it’s a pleasure to watch Emma enjoy it. 

“It runs in the family, apparently,” Regina mutters absentmindedly while she stares at the way Emma licks her fingers, the way her tongue runs over her thumb. Something inside her squeezes.

Emma’s eyes grow wide.

“Why, Madam Mayor, was that a _joke_?” 

Regina recoils, folds her arm and raises an eyebrow. Maybe. There’s some truth in it. Regina smiles the tiniest of smiles, blinking rapidly to get the image of Emma licking her thumb out of her head. And Henry watches the exchange, carelessly dipping his fries in mayonnaise until it’s more sauce than fries, and stuffing it into his mouth. He really is Emma’s child, she scoffs. Nature sometimes prevails over nurture.

They’re in Emma’s hospital room, Emma in the bed, Henry sitting on the mattress next to her, Regina leaning against the footboard. Somehow, despite being in the hospital, it feels strangely… _domestic._ Having dinner together. Or well, the two of them are eating. She’s watching with a shaking head. “Next time I’ll bring vegetables,” she mutters.

“Next time?” 

Even before she hears the words, a little hopeful and eager, she realizes that she’s spoken her thoughts out loud. She looks up, finds Emma’s slightly tilted head, eyes focused on her face. Regina tries to ignore the bandage around her head. 

“Maybe,” she offers because she hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous. But Emma quickly shakes her head. 

“You’re not. Though I prefer another round of this over vegetables.” She waves at her container with only a small part of her sandwich left.

“Hmm. Vegetables it is,” Regina points out. “It helps you heal.” Emma pulls a face before she takes the last couple of bites from her sandwich and exhales blissfully. 

Regina… _likes_ it. The way Emma replies to her carelessly spoken words. Their petty bickering. Her son, looking amused while turning his head between his mother, depending on who’s speaking, sometimes rolling with his eyes - a perfect copy of her own. He still is very much her son in many ways, as much as he is Emma’s.

Regina clutches her purse, feels how the joy of Emma’s face enters her chest. Something flutters inside her and even though she’s not really ready to acknowledge what it really is, she welcomes the warm feeling that is so opposed to the wrecking devastation she’s experienced only an hour ago at Archie’s place. The nausea has left a little while ago. Emma and Henry really are the balm to her soul, she muses.

Her eyes follow Emma as the blonde sinks back into her pillow. The effort of eating and entertaining her crowd has strained her, Regina sees, and she feels guilty for overstaying. It reminds her of her own emotional exhaustion, which she has pushed aside to see Emma. And as much as visiting the blonde has helped her ease the rawest edges of her own inner turmoil, she still very much needs her own rest as well. Whatever the night and its terrors will bring, she has to try. And she still needs that shower.

“I have to go,” she announces, pushing away from the bed.

“Wait, are you leaving?” Henry looks up and Regina smiles at him, reaching over to touch his shoulder. It feels so good to be able to do that again. And apparently, it only took her to be a hero only once to restore their connection. There’s still bitterness inside her about it all, but she pushes it to the back of her mind. What matters is that he’s here. That he doesn’t recoil when she reaches out to touch him. And sometimes she catches his eyes and sees a little wariness, but she reminds herself that it takes time. Healing doesn’t happen overnight, Archie had told her. Emma, too, had told her that Henry would come around.

“The hell you are,” Emma murmurs. It makes Regina scoff in surprise, eyebrows raised, but the response also does weird things to her stomach. 

“You need to rest, Miss Swan,” she gently scolds the blonde, “You’ve been unconscious for two days. You have a concussion. You shouldn’t overstrain yourself.”

Emma groans, but she closes her eyes. “You never overstrain me, Regina,” she murmurs.

Flustered, because she doesn't think about what that means, she pulls on her coat. Her eyes wander through the room before they settle on Emma, who looks at her, tiredly but amused.

Then, she feels a tug on her sleeve. “Mom? Can I… maybe stay with you tonight?”

Regina’s startled by the request. Her eyes fly from Henry to Emma in the bed, a silent longing in her eyes. Emma smiles tiredly and shrugs. The silent permission makes her hold her breath for a few seconds before she releases it a little shaky. “Of course, Henry. It is still very much your home,” she softly says. Something tugs in her chest, but it’s a good tug. After the afternoon with Archie, after releasing so much pain into his office, after breaking down to pieces, this is a welcome change inside her. Having her son home again… it’s better than the best medicine. Warms her heart and repairs something deep inside. As if the tiniest cracks in her heart are glued together.

Emma watches her in amusement and Regina realizes her emotions must have been visible on her face. She quickly pulls her face into a stiff mask and it makes Emma sigh deeply. “Have fun, you two,” she mutters, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” 

Regina never would, of course. She’s more refined than that.

~*~

She should have known the night would not be easy. After bringing Henry to bed - she insisted on reading to him and he rolled his eyes at her but indulged her anyway. She sat with him until he fell asleep, after which she finally took that searing hot shower.

Strangely enough, she had not needed it as much as she had when she had just left Archie’s office. Henry’s presence in the house is soothing her soul. But it can only heal so much.

She wakes up in the middle of the night, panting, covered in sweat, shivers running over her back. With so many feelings laid bare, her nightmares have intensified so much that they leave her shaking in her bed. Some of them were visions from her past - King Leopold’s body on top of hers, Daniels death, Johanna’s piercing cry as she fell from the tower - and others were twisted thoughts of Emma dying in the mines, their son leaving with Neal and Regina unable to reach them, and even her own death at Greg’s hands on the table, consumed by the diamond, burning at the stake. She can’t sleep for more than half an hour before one of the terrors snap her into consciousness. Now, after the seventh time, she slips out of her bed and makes her way to the adjourned bathroom. Her throat is dry, her heart pounds in her throat.

Her trembling hands reach for a glass and she fills it with water. And after she takes a few sips she lifts her gaze, eyes in the mirror. Sees her own haunted gaze. If this is what Archie’s sessions are going to do to her, she’s not sure if she can keep going. She’s used to her victims haunting her in her sleep but there’s so much she has suppressed, so much hasn’t thought about in ages, so many events that she has buried in the dark corners of her soul - the darkness that’s become the Evil Queen’s foundation - and it is all surfacing. Greg’s electrodes have pulled the lid off. Archie’s therapy draws them out. She brings her face closer to the mirror. Studies her bloodshot eyes. 

Her mother would have thought her weak. And maybe she is. Maybe she was never strong. Just a scared little girl covered in layers and layers of armor, hidden behind the thick castle walls she’s built around herself to survive all the horrors thrown at her. A shiver runs down her spine.

She’s been conditioned into hating weakness so much that even the slightest hint of vulnerability makes her feel uneasy, and she sneers at her mirror image. Fool, she thinks when she closes her eyes. But the visions, they don’t leave her alone. Her own cries ring in her head. _No, please._ Begging for mercy, asking to be left alone. Asking to be allowed to leave. _Please let me go._

She knows she doesn’t want to fall asleep anymore. Not tonight.

Instead, she grabs her robe, wraps it firmly around her shivering body, and clutches it close before stepping out of her bedroom. Making her way across the hall, quietly opens the door to her son’s bedroom. 

A flashlight is on, illuminating the room. It gives the space a spooky feel. But Henry is fast asleep, she sees. He must’ve woken up somewhere during the night, taken his flashlight, and read in the book Snow once gave him. That wretched book that started it all. She shakes her head, quietly tiptoes to the bed and sits down on the edge before she turns the light off. His steady breathing soothes her nerves. He’s home. He’s with her. And she almost can’t believe it. It wasn’t very long ago that she thought he would have lost to her forever, no matter how hard she had tried to hold on to him. Her fingers tentatively reach out for him, brush the hair from his forehead.

This is it, this is her happy ending, she believes. Her son, back in her care. Peacefully sleeping, not trying to scheme his way out of her house. Not questioning whether she loves him or not. She believes there’s a lot that both of them need to work through before they can fully trust each other again, before all the doubts have been laid to rest, but it’s a start. This is all that she wanted, the tells herself, ignoring the protesting whisper in the back of her mind. He is enough. 

He has to be.

Suddenly incapable of leaving the room, she stares at his features, lit by the faint light in the hallway coming through the open door. Sits on the bed, simply looks at him. It quiets the voices in her head, her thoughts that have been racing throughout the past days. It eases her mind. Her eyes wander over his relaxed features and she finds herself laying down next to him, much in the way she did when he was younger, hypnotized with the deep rising and falling of his chest. And his steady rhythm relaxes her and before she knows it, she sinks away in a peaceful slumber, only to wake hours later, finding her son’s eyes stare back at her in wonder. 

She blinks slowly before realization dawns. She didn’t have any nightmare. She smiles at him and he smiles back at her, a little tentative. And they don’t talk about how Regina ended up next to him - she refuses to, because she doesn’t want to lie to him, but she cannot burden him with what plagues her.

“Pancakes?” she whispers instead and it puts a smile on his face.

It’s a Saturday, which would technically mean that they could have a day together but Henry really wants to go back to the hospital. Regina complies. And so, after they get dressed and Regina makes him breakfast - not just the pancakes, but she makes him scrambled eggs as well - it’s almost like the last year falls away as Henry merrily chatters about Halloween, he wants to dress up like a ninja, he says, or maybe a fairy tale character that they haven’t seen in Storybrooke, like Alladin - she takes him back to the hospital to go and see Emma.

Regina is not surprised that her own stomach is filled with anticipation, too.

When they arrive, Emma is awake, which pleases her. However, Emma’s entire family tree is also visiting - Snow, Charming, and, god, Neal. It’s amazing how quickly one’s heart can drop through the floor. And after digging up her past with Snow with Archie the day before, wading through her emotions, waking from soul tearing nightmares that caused it, Regina really has no intention to spend the day with this happy go merry bunch of deranged so-called heroes.

She smiles tensed, nods to Emma and avoids the other eyes in the room, briefly lingering at the threshold. And when Henry launches himself towards Emma, there’s nothing to stay for so she turns on her heels and leaves the room. “What do you mean, he spent the night with her?” she hears coming from the room and she snorts - Snow White sounds outraged. But nobody follows her and she’s strangely disappointed because of it. She regrets it, because she would have liked spending more time with her son and Emma. And she is relieved because she doesn’t know if she could’ve kept herself from harming the three imbeciles in the room.

She’s restless so she roams the sidewalks, not wanting to go home just yet. She decides to take a walk to the docks again and this time, she stays there. The wind is chilly, smells salty, chisels her face. The dark overcast sky is heavy with the first snow. It’s early, even for Maine. She tucks her hands in her coat pockets as she passes the benches she normally enjoys, to the farthest corner she can reach. This part of the docks stretch out over the water - it’s as if you have passed the end of the world In front of her is an endless ocean. Hair tousled by the wind, she leans against the rail and sighs deeply. Her breath condenses in the cold air. She watches how her exhales of air evaporate as she tries to collect her thoughts.

“It’ll snow soon,” she hears behind her and she jerks around, scolding herself for letting her guard down. Ruby’s behind her, in the same sporting outfit she wore when she’d witnessed the fight Archie and Regina had on these very same docks. Anger flares up inside her. 

“What do you want, Miss Lucas?” she says sharply. Ruby shrugs as she bends over, panting heavily as she regains her breath. 

“Nothing, really,” she breathes as she stretches her back. “Just saw you here and I kinda wanted to thank you that you saved the town?” She shrugs, offers her one of her toothy smiles. 

Huh. Regina eyes her surprised. Not at all what she’d suspected, and Regina, who always has a sharp retort, now draws a blank. She frowns, because Ruby, Red, or whatever it is she goes by these days, is still one of Snow’s best friends. And she is ever wary of all of them. Ruby eyes her curiously before her gaze falters. “And I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Regina takes a step back, back now pressed to the railing. She narrows her eyes. “What do you have to be sorry about?” she says, cautious. 

“Well, I’ve basically pointed David into your direction when Archie…” She smiles apologetically. “He asked me what I’d seen. I’d seen you here, on the docks, arguing with Archie. And I saw you leave his office at closing time. Which apparently wasn’t you and I don’t know how I couldn’t have sniffed that out.” 

Indeed, it is very strange that Ruby didn’t. She hadn’t thought about that before. Regina’s brow furrows. “Apparently, the wish is the father of the thought, is it not?” Regina murmurs. “It’s easier to see what’s in front of you.” _You can’t change the past_ , Archie whispers in her mind. But she can’t help but feel betrayed, robbed of her chance to try and be better. She’d tried so hard back then. It feels like another life, after everything that’s happened after.

“I shouldn’t let that have clouded my judgment, though,” Red says fiercely. “I’ve thought it over why I couldn’t sniff it out. Maybe she was too far away or the wind came from the wrong direction. But I made a mistake. It was a poor call, and for that I am sorry.”   
  
“Well, the town’s already forgiven you, Miss Lucas,” Regina tells her. She rubs a hand over her face. 

“But have you?” the lanky brunette asks after a moment of hesitation. 

Regina turns to meet Ruby’s eyes, stunned. Sees how the taller woman fidgets with her fingers, indicating that she's a little nervous. Then, her face pulls into a frown. “Why does it matter what I think?”  
  
“Because you’re the one who was wronged because of it. Not the rest of the town. So I wanted to talk to you about it and say I was sorry.” She smiles a little sheepishly. “You know, I never really had a problem with you. You made a deal with Graham, protected the wolves. That included me, in my… other form. But Snow’s my friend and…” She waves her hand a little awkwardly when her voice dies away.

Regina sighs. “You’re forgiven, Miss Lucas,” she replies, turning to stare over the water.

“Is it that easy?” Ruby asks tentatively and Regina shrugs.

“I suppose, yes. I don’t hold it against you,” she murmurs, “But I appreciate you coming out here and talking to me about it.”

“Okay. You want company?”

Regina scoffs, surprised again, as Ruby doesn't wait for her answer and takes place next to her, leans against the rails. Ruby’s mouth pulls into a smile. “I know a thing or two about loneliness, Your Majesty.”

Regina blinks at her, stupefied. “You don’t have to stay here to ease your feelings of guilt, Miss Lucas,” she then says, her voice razor-sharp, but Ruby shakes her head instantly and seems not intimidated by her tone of voice, at all.

“I’m not,” Ruby smiles at her with her signature toothy grin. “I’m halfway through my run and I always take a break around here. We don’t have to talk. Let me just catch my breath and I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”

Regina turns her head back to the ocean, a silent approval. They gaze out over the ocean, but Regina feels her eyes wander to her the woman in her peripheral view every couple of seconds. She doesn’t understand why Ruby would seek her company. Apologizing was enough, right? She is confused, wonders what’s behind it. But she can’t think of anything.

And indeed, a couple of minutes later Ruby inhales deeply and turns from the railing. “Time to go,” she announces. Regina casts her a sideway glance, not wanting to show that she in fact appreciated the brief company. “But um, if you want a coffee after your walk… come over and I’ll get you one for free.” 

It extracts a surprised chuckle from Regina and she nods, and Ruby says goodbye before she continues her run. And then, when Ruby’s gone, Regina’s back tenses as she realizes what’s just happened.

She forgave Ruby for playing a part in her demise and it was as easy as a sincere apology and a free coffee. _Is it that easy?_ Ruby had asked. Huh. Maybe it really is. From deep inside her belly, a laugh bubbles up and she throws her head in her neck and laughs, laughs, laughs until the tears run over her cheek and the laugh fades into sobs. Because this time it might have been easy. The exception to the rule.

She remembers that she long, long ago took Snow to Daniel's grave, revealing the true reason for his departure. The meek _I’m sorry_ when Snow realized that Daniel hadn't left, but that he'd died. Regina's own, stern _I’m sorry too, but nothing can change what happened._

She had flung the accusations towards the princess, heartfelt and longing for a sincere apology. A recognition of Snow's share in this particular history. _She - ripped - his heart out because of you, because you couldn’t listen to me_. And all she’d gotten in return was, _You killed my father,_ and _Haven’t we suffered enough?_ _No_ , it hadn’t been enough. It was never enough. 

Because Snow, always convinced of her own good, her own signature _righteousness_ , had easily turned the tale, made it about herself once more. And for whatever reason - maybe she’d choked on anger or maybe there was this false sense of kindness still lingering somewhere deep inside her - Regina couldn’t tell her what Snow’s dear _father_ had done to her, during all these years that had darkened Regina’s heart and soul.

The wind has picked up, tortures Regina's cheeks, wet with tears, with its chilling cold. She wonders what would have happened if she _had_ shared the story. If she had elaborated on what the consequences had been of that spilled lie. 

She wonders if Snow would’ve believed her if she had. Probably not. But she’ll never know now.

Instead, she had fed Snow the apple. The rest is history.

The first snowflakes start to fall as she deflates against the rail. Her history and Snow’s. Because they’ve been intertwined for so long that she can’t see the one without the other. And she has to talk to Archie about it. The thought alone makes her anxious - the cricket’s always been on the Charmings’ side. Her heart sinks a little. Because no matter how much time has passed, no matter how much she’s trying to be a better person, she knows it’s fragile.

And even though she holds her own at this very moment, she knows that everything she’s worked for these past weeks can shatter in the blink of an eye.

Regina swallows past a lump in her throat, breathes in an unsteady breath before she lets go of the rail. The snow has started to fall thicker. Stick to her hair, her coat. A thin layer has already stuck to the benches and looking to the clouds, it’s only the beginning. It’s time to return home.

Her phone pings a few times. She knows who it is because there’s only one person texting her these days. Fishing it out of her pockets, she sighs. 

_My parents are gone._

_Henry tells me he enjoyed last night and that your breakfast is way better than MM’s._

Regina can’t help but chuckle.

_You coming over?_

She can’t bring herself to answer. Because God, yes, she would love that. Knows that Emma can see that she’s read her messages. Knows more will follow. But she wants to be alone - which is ironic because these past few days she’s dreaded it. 

When Archie calls her a little later, she does pick up. He asks her how she feels and she says _fine_ because that’s her standard reply - never show weakness. She inhales deeply, feels how the salty air fills her lungs. Exhales slowly, sees the condensed clouds in the air between the falling snowflakes.

Regina's not fine. Archie knows it. She knows it. 

She just doesn't know how to admit that she's not.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggers - description of dead bodies, some sort of depression/wanting to die, violent nightmares.

She stands in front of Archie’s practice the next morning. It’s Sunday, so his office is closed. Her eyes wander from Archie’s door to the building across the street. Granny’s is always open.

She had started to realize so, yesterday, both during the day and later last night, when her nightmares woke her up again, that it might take longer than she thinks before her feet are on solid ground again. She‘s pushed herself hard last week - maybe because she thinks it helps, maybe to punish herself, maybe because that’s how she was raised, always reaching further, always onto the next, higher goal. 

She woke up with a cry, late last night, adrenaline spiking and drops of sweat running over her body, only half-remembering her dream. It had something to do with Emma, which had made her impulsively reach out the phone, apologizing that she hadn’t dropped by yesterday. To her surprise, she had gotten a reply immediately.

_You’ll make it up to me._

She could see Emma’s smug smile in her mind and had choked out a laugh before another text had gotten in.

_I might be released tomorrow._

_That’s wonderful,_ Regina had replied. And then, the messages had stopped coming. She had stared at the phone but nothing else came. Since it was after three in the morning, she suspected Emma might have fallen asleep again. 

In an impulse, she had decided to go and visit Emma first thing this morning. Unfortunately, Rumple’s spawn had also been visiting and when she heard his voice, she’d halted in the hallway, frozen in her tracks. She’d heard him speak but didn’t register his words as she turned around and left. Her feet automatically brought her here. She shakes her head. Apparently, Archie has become a refuge if she’s at the verge of doing something that might jeopardize her… progress, she supposes. Now, she feels foolish. Her eyes wander through Main Street. There’s hardly anyone out this early. It’s only a little after nine. She’s been up for three hours already, so she hadn’t realized the time.

She doesn’t want to be found lingering on Archie’s doorstep - she’s not _that_ desperate - and decides to cross the street. Hopefully, not a lot of these meddlesome villagers will be up yet to crowd the only diner in town. And for once, she’s in luck. Granny’s is empty. Well, save for Granny, who looks up as the bell above the door tingles merrily. Whose face turns into a scowl as soon as she recognizes who enters. Regina narrows her eyes and raises her chin, moves towards the counter. 

“Honestly, Granny,” a mumbling voice whines from the back of the diner. Ruby comes into view, rubbing over her face while shooting her grandmother an annoyed glance, “Why do I need to get up this early on a Sunday when there’s nobody- Oh! Hey, Regina!” 

Her tone of voice changes immediately and it raises both Regina’s and Granny’s eyebrows. Ruby ignores it. “Coming for that coffee I promised you?”

“What coffee?” Granny barks, the same time Regina says, “I suppose I am.”

Ruby rolls her eyes at her grandmother and waves her away. “I’ll take it from here,” she tells her, ignoring the way Granny stares at her in disbelief. Distrustful, the old woman’s eyes slide to Regina who raises a mocking eyebrow, and then Granny rolls her eyes.

“If you destroy anything, you’re paying,” Granny growls at Regina before she leaves into the kitchen and Ruby shakes her head disapprovingly, while Regina huffs annoyed.

“And she tells me _I_ have a morning mood,” Ruby murmurs as she turns to the coffee machine. "Anyway, don't mind her." It doesn’t take long before Regina has a cup of hot coffee, just the way she likes it. She stares at Ruby, who shrugs with a smile. “You always take the same,” she explains with a shrug, taking her own coffee before she drags a barstool closer and sits down. “You want to talk?”

“No.” Regina sharply says, while she wraps her hands around the hot cup and stares into the dark liquid. 

“Fine. We’ll just drink coffee,” she answers, unfazed with Regina’s blunt reply.

Regina looks at her through her lashes, a little suspicious, but Ruby’s not even watching her. Instead, she plays with her phone. She’s not used to people just… _being_ , really. People always want something from her. Accuse her of something. There’s always… _something_. And here sits the werewolf, simply scrolling through her phone, not caring at all what Regina’s doing. It’s so unusual for Regina that she doesn’t trust it and it makes her nervous - and of course, Ruby picks up on that. Her nostrils flare just a second before she looks up and catches Regina’s gaze. 

“What?” she asks, questioning.  
  
“Nothing,” Regina murmurs, averting her gaze. She stares into her coffee and suddenly, she feels restless. The coffee is a little too hot to drink and she burns her tongue, but she swallows it anyway. Ruby looks at her intently for a few seconds but doesn’t say anything. Because Regina told her she didn’t want to talk. And Regina doesn’t know what to do with it.

She finishes the coffee as quickly as she can. “I have to go,” she tells Ruby, not really sure why because she never has announced her exit from the diner before. Maybe because they’re the only one there. 

“Okay. Have a nice day,” Ruby says automatically. With a smile. Ruby Lucas smiles widely at her. Regina blinks rapidly before her face pulls into her signature scowl, and without adding anything else, Regina turns and leaves, yanking the door open a little too rough. She hastily makes her way outside, paces through the outside seating area, and nearly collides with Archie, who’s walking Pongo.   
  
“Regina,” he says, a little startled. 

“Doctor Hopper,” Regina replies, quickly masking her anxiety.

“Are you all right?” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she automatically says, because that’s what she _does_. He frowns and his eyes shift from her face to the diner behind her.

“Did something happen inside?” he inquires. 

“What is this, twenty questions?” Regina snaps, still a little agitated. “No, doctor. I ordered a coffee. Miss Lucas served it. I drank it. I left.”

Archie looks at her, unfazed by her sudden outburst. “Must be some coffee, then,” he muses with a tiny smirk. She grits her teeth but before she says anything, Pongo barks. It startles her and of course, Archie notices.

“Pongo needs to go. Do you maybe want to walk with us?”

She can’t find a reason not to. And hadn't it been her intention to visit him in the first place after trying to visit Emma, this morning? “Fine,” she says again, shoulders straight and chin up in the air. He steps aside, makes a waving gesture to indicate she should start walking, and she does.

The first couple of minutes are covered in silence. “Miss Lucas... apologized to me. Yesterday,” Regina then slowly says. “She offered me a coffee and… well. I guess I came to collect.”

“Ah. And how did that make you feel? Her apologizing to you?”  
  
Regina scoffs. Ever the therapist. “Awkward,” she confesses anyway.

“Why do you think that is?”

The answer comes quickly. “Because I don’t feel that I deserve it. An apology. I can’t even forgive myself.” The words are void of emotion as if Regina is simply stating a fact. “There's just… So much has happened,” she says softly. They’ve reached the park and Archie unclips Pongo’s belt. The dog runs off barking immediately but halts suddenly after a few yards, and Archie fishes a ball from his pocket. When he throws it as far as he can, Pongo dashes after it. 

“Do you think you ever will? Forgive yourself?” he then asks.

Regina scoffs. “Aren’t you the one who should say I eventually will? That it’s my ultimate goal?”

“Normally, I would,” Archie replies, pushing his glasses further on his nose as Pongo comes running with the ball. The dog drops it in front of his feet and picks it up. Throws it away again and Pongo follows instantly. What a life, Regina muses. “But,” Archie continues, which makes her look up at him, “I know you aren’t easily convinced. Not even by yourself.”

Regina chuckles, a little bitter. Pushing her hands deeper in her pockets, she sighs. “I suppose I believe I’ll never have peace of mind, but I will settle for just being able to look at myself in the mirror again without seeing the Evil Queen staring back at me _all_ the time. Without destructively hating myself. And I think that’ll be enough to work on for the next century.”

Archie smiles sympathetically as Pongo comes to return the ball again. He gestures at it, as the dog drops it to his feet. “Do you want to…?”

Regina hesitates a few seconds but then squats to pick up the ball. Pongo looks at her. Barks happily. And then, she retracts her arm, and with as much strength as she can muster, she swings the ball forward. It’s nowhere near as far as Archie threw it, she notices, a little dissatisfied, but when she wiggles her fingers the ball goes a little further. Changes direction, sets the dog chasing it. She smirks involuntarily before she drops her hand and turns to the man next to her.   
  
Her smile fades, and she studies him a little while. He calmly meets her eyes, knows that she’s weighing him. It’s easy to talk to him, she finds. Maybe that’s why she turned him into a therapist in the first place. Gave him his Storybrooke PhD. And she realizes that, even though her history is harsh, unsettling, and sometimes downright nauseating, it feels good to talk about it. To him, especially, because even after everything he’s heard, he hasn’t judged. He has simply observed. Asked questions to keep her going. 

Her past is not a secret - for that, too many people were involved, usually as a victim. There were hardly any equals. Even fewer friends to talk to -- the only one she remotely saw as a friend was Maleficent, but she’s dead now, too. But talking about it is therapy in itself. Talking makes it less hard to organize her thoughts because she releases them out in the open. Makes them more real. Better to grasp and understand.

“Once I thought redemption was possible,” she suddenly starts. “But then, well.” A short pause. “I had a whole village massacred.” The words seemingly come easy. But it’s also because Archie knows this part of her history. He’s already heard the gruesome details of what came to pass, that day. 

She sighs, moves to a bench close by, and sits down, folds her hands in her lap. Archie moves a little closer. Throws the ball again. He doesn’t sit down, keeps a little distance as Regina contemplates if she should go on, here, out in the open. But it’s early, and it’s cold. There’s hardly anyone outside. So, she quietly starts talking. About how she had once asked Rumple to cloak her. How Snow had rescued her from her own guards, not knowing who she really was. She had been wounded and the girl had taken care of her in a secret hideout, had told her bits and pieces of her history with Regina. Had confessed to thinking Regina to be redeemable, that there was good in Regina. So fervently, that Regina had almost started to believe it, herself.

That is, until they encountered the countless lifeless bodies of villagers - dead by Regina’s vicious and frustrating careless order, invoked by rage and deep hate when none of them had stood up to spill Snow’s whereabouts. She remembers standing paralyzed, horrified over her own thoughtless impulse. Isolated in a war, she had been willing to fight, willing to do anything to be victorious. Had been determined to win this seemingly endless battle of pride. And innocents had died. Men. Women. Children.

God, the children. A violent shiver runs down her spine and her folded hands are shaking, so she squeezes them tightly together.

The villagers' lifeless bodies had been thrown in a ditch, left behind to rot as a warning to not defy the Queen’s wishes. The stench of blood, gore, and _death_ had invaded her nose, had made it hard not to throw up. The lifeless eyes seemed to watch her, accuse her. 

There was no victory that day.

Remembering is like ripping out the stitches from a badly healed, still festering wound. One by one. Regina presses her hands to her stomach. Bends forward, just a little bit, feeling sick. It’s a common practice these days, she thinks, to feel repulsed by her own vengeful history.

“After that… my transformation in the Evil Queen’s was complete. The fear I’d instigated absolute. The chance of any form of forgiveness or redemption evaporated. I’ve not once considered it possible again ever since.”

Archie doesn’t try to downplay the memories when she lays them bare. He knows about the horrors - he hadn’t been present in the flesh, but he had known about Regina’s darkest hour through Snow’s tearful reports of the day.

“They haunt me in my sleep, the villagers,” Regina says quietly, head bowed, unable to look at him. “I’m responsible for the massacre. I ordered it out of spite. Out of anger, vengeance. I never fully realized what I’d ordered until I stood at that landslide with all these broken, dead bodies staring back at me. I don’t even blame Snow for what she threw at me then. She said she took everything back about what she’d said about me earlier and I pleaded with her, no.” Regina grimaces. “I _begged_ her to remember the woman I once was, revealing who I really was in the process. I remember how she looked at me when it dawned on her that all this time, it had been _me_ in her care. Frankly, it surprised me that she didn’t shoot me right at that spot. I never really understand why she hesitated.” She had deserved it. And for a moment, just as Snow had readied her bow, she had waited for it. The punishment. She had briefly closed her eyes and waited, but the arrow never came. And then her self-preservation skills kicked in and she had called Rumplestiltskin, who betrayed her by not showing up when he’d promised he would. And then, she fled the scene, not being able to get the smell of death out of her nose.

Back in the palace, the insipid imp _had_ shown up. She remembered how he’d gloated, giggled when she had called herself the Evil Queen. But long after he had gone she had stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were empty. Hollow. There was no hope for her, not anymore. It was then when she embraced the emptiness, hollowness of her existence. She’d locked herself up in her room. Had mourned the more gentle part of her that she had eradicated all on her own and then, after two days, she resurfaced, playing the part everyone believed her to be. 

The Evil Queen in all her glory. 

And it didn’t take long before she believed it herself, as well. She tells him all of this, softly. 

“What did you feel when you assumed that role, at first?” Archie asks her. He sits down at the other end of the bench, his body slightly turned in Regina’s direction. Pongo’s brought back the ball, but senses that there’s no more playing going on. So instead, he wags his tail and starts to investigate the bench and its surroundings.

“Nothing,” she murmurs. “Nothing at all.” She swallowed, tears pricking behind her eyes. 

“I had people killed before. I’d ripped out hearts. Crushed them. Snapped necks.” She laughs bitterly. “Technically I didn’t kill the king, but I planned his death. But I had never massacred an entire village before. People that I didn’t know. Families I’d never seen before. By ordering their murder, I had also murdered myself. I felt nothing but emptiness inside me.” Her voice is soft because she tries to stop it from faltering. She inhales a deep, shaky breath while she tries to organize her thoughts. She feels raw. More vulnerable than she’s probably ever been - a recurring thought these days.

She scoffs. “Do you know what the worst part of it was? That my entire ordeal with Snow had sparked a little hope that _maybe_ there was hope for me. She… told my alter ego Wilma that she knew there was good in Regina because she’d seen it. When we were younger. That hope settled in my heart. It’s what Snow does the best, is it not? Spreading hope. It’s what she lives and breathes for. Hope is like an infectious disease. It spreads like wildfire.” She shakes her head. Balls her hands into fists. Nails dig into her palm, but she doesn’t notice.

“I didn't have much use for hope before. My mother, Snow, and the King had made sure of that - I was punished every time I had some hope of leaving, some hope of freedom, some hope for… anything. But during my time as Wilma, when Snow told me that she felt there was still a chance for me, I felt it. That wretched hope. That maybe, not all was lost.” Regina scoffs. “And when I saw what I had done and she took it all back, that flicker of hope was violently shredded to pieces so violently. That’s what ended me.” 

She stares into the distance before Pongo claims her attention. He walks past her, sits between her and Archie. Blinks at her, and she automatically stretches her arm, scratches him behind his ears. 

“Why do you believe that?” Archie softly asks.

Regina doesn’t look at him. Her eyes are burning. When she talks again, her voice is softer than before. “Because if you never have something, you don’t miss it. But if you do have it, even if it’s brief - and it’s taken away from you, that’s devastating.” Tears sting behind her eyes. She focuses on her fingers with which she’s gently patting the dog on his head. The gesture is in stark contrast with the story she’s unfolding. 

“Having that little bit of awoken hope ripped apart… Well, it eradicated every flint of humanity I had left in me. I became an empty shell. I gave up on life.” Her voice breaks and she retracts her hand. Folds both of them in her lap and blinks rapidly. Wills the tears away. She’s not going to spill any of them in a public area, not even when there’s nobody outside. Well, almost nobody. A car passes. She hears the sound of children playing in the distance.

“From that moment on I didn’t care anymore what happened to me. I didn't care whether I lived or died anymore. Which is ironic, really.” She smiles a little watery when she finally turns her head to meet his eyes. 

He takes it as an incentive to ask, “Why is it ironic?”

“The emptiness and not caring about whether I lived or died, made me a ruthless and ultra-effective Evil Queen. The irony lies in the fact that I chose to be the part that had protected myself through my mother's abuse and all the others… Everything that came after.” She couldn’t address what’s happened during the nights as a queen. “I chose the part of me that had helped me _survive_ all the hardships I’d endured.” She swallows, feels how a tear escapes her eye, and shudders at the memories. “But after I so recklessly gave the order to murder all those villagers and was confronted with the consequences of my own actions, I... gave up on myself. I’d sacrificed my innocence and kindness. My… humanity was gone. I _became_ my revenge. I fully embraced my fate of being a villain. And villains might not get a happy ending, but they might get their revenge. The thought of Snow White’s heart in my hand, me squeezing the life out of it, became my happy ending.”

She stands up, too restless to sit anymore and pushes her fists deep in the pockets of her coat. A shiver runs over her back. The wind is playing with her hair. Her face is a little numb and she sees how Archie’s face is red from the cold, as well. She hasn’t even realized how chilly it is until she starts to move her frozen fingers. Well. If anything, the weather perfectly matches her story right now.

“It was during that time I decided that death was too merciful a revenge. I wanted Snow to feel what I felt. I can tell you that an endless life with nothingness is imminently worse than a quick death. So I had her eat a poisoned apple to doom her into a life of being trapped between death and sleep.” 

She scoffs at the memory. Of Daniel's grave, revealing the real reason for his departure. Snow’s apology and accusation in one, always unable to acknowledge her part in Regina’s rise to the Evil Queen. Regina’s satisfaction when Snow had fallen to the ground after she ate the apple. 

Her frustration soon after.

“Of course, I hadn’t taken their True Love into account. But then Rumple provided me with a dark curse and I created a village, forcing all of its inhabitants to relive one day on repeat until the end of time was enthralling. It's what enabled me to kill my father when I needed to cast the curse. It was the only thing left to live for.” She brings her trembling hands to her face, pushing tendrils of hair behind her ears. She inhales deeply and finally, looks up to catch Archie’s gaze. 

“Do you remember the moment I was captured? Brought to justice? When I was tied to a pole, about to be executed?”

“Yes, I do,” Archie murmurs, a frown forming on his face. 

“I was happy it would finally end.” Regina sighs. “You know, you can lose your life far, far before you die. And at some point, you welcome death. I was ready to die. The Evil Queen would have her grand departure. I told everyone how I didn’t regret anything except not killing Snow White, and that was that.”

“But it didn’t end there,” Archie says.

Regina scoffs. “Because _she_ took pity in me. Wanted to give me another chance. Snow and her damned hope. Of course, I failed her test a little later. And still, she couldn’t kill me. She never could, apparently.” She barks out a bitter laugh. “Instead, she banished me and by doing so, Gold’s plan came to a close.” She shakes her head, feels Pongo’s nose in her folded hands on her lap, automatically caresses his head. “I hated her for it. For not being able to take my life. I hated myself more for not being able to do it myself.” Self-loathe is dripping from her voice. “I was too weak, even for that.” 

“But you don’t want to die anymore,” Archie observes.

“No,” Regina replies. “I was willing to sacrifice myself in the mines, but I don’t _want_ to die.”   
  
“What changed?” he says curiously.

She smiles at him. “Storybrooke. Because the Dark Curse gave me a break as much as it gave me my revenge.”

“In what way?”

She remembers the first day waking up in Storybrooke. How she had laughed and laughed and laughed. Had felt victorious for finally beating Snow White. She had finally _won_. But that wasn’t all of it.

“Storybrooke freed me from having to be the Evil Queen. I was still being avoided and somewhat feared as the town’s mayor, maybe, but everyone had forgotten the real horrors, didn’t remember what I was capable of. I felt… free, for the first time in over a decade. Free of the Evil Queen’s stigma and it felt refreshing… to be like everyone else for a change. Until it didn’t anymore. Feel refreshing, I mean.” 

“Because reliving the same day over and over again will do that for you,” Archie says with a small smile.

She nods, and sighs. “Being stuck in a town that is the same for years on end is quite tedious. I had hoped it would give me some peace of mind but instead it left me with an empty heart and with too much time to think. But little Owen, ironically enough as it is, opened my eyes to the opportunity to adopt a child. And then there was Henry to live for and he was mine, he loved me as if I were his own mother and it was _enough_. Until he found out that he was adopted and Snow gave him the book.” 

And then he’d rejected her, like everyone else had done in her life and had run off to Boston, bringing Emma back to Storybrooke. “The rest is… history, as they say.”

Archie, who’s been observing her as much as he’s been listening, stands up as well. 

“Regina, you’ve had a… remarkable journey through life up till now.” She scoffs, tiredly, rolls with her eyes. It’s a grave understatement. “You’re a very complicated woman, but there’s one thing I’ve learned in these past few sessions.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re a survivor - even after you gave up. You are resilient. Strong. No matter what’s been thrown at you, you always bounce back.”

“Hardly,” she scoffs, both at him and herself.

“You are still here, aren’t you?” Archie objects, “And you’ve shown the capability to… reinvent yourself. That means you can do it again. You already are doing it.”

“From the ashes…” Regina murmurs, because that’s where she is. She crashed and burned until there was nothing more than smoldering embers left. It doesn’t feel like she can sink any lower than she already has.

Archie smiles.

“You’ve created illusions around yourself and built the persona you wanted people to see. And you went to extreme lengths to uphold these illusions. Because it’s easier to show everyone a carefully crafted image that cannot be hurt than have them know the vulnerable part of you underneath it.”

“Vulnerability never got me anywhere,” she barks, shoulders tense. “All it handed me was a dead fiance and an abusive marriage. And everything originating from it. I’ve quickly learned to not be vulnerable. I’m a villain, Doctor Hopper. Villains can’t be vulnerable.”

“Opening yourself up to tell a story like this shows vulnerability. So maybe, you should reconsider seeing yourself as a villain, then,” he suggests with a smile.

Automatically, Regina shakes her head. “Tell me, _doctor,”_ she says sharply, wrapping her arms around herself. “What’s the point of me talking about this? It hardly makes me feel better. In fact, it makes me feel _worse.”_ And cold. God, it really is freezing outside.

“I believe that like this is exactly what you need. Talk about what happened. You're acknowledging your past,” Archie says, gently. “You gave me a summary of your life story, how you experienced it all. You've talked about what caused you to spiral into the darkness. Acknowledging your mistakes, even though it might not seem like it, is the first step to your healing. Tell me, after today, after our last session… What do you regret the most?”

She has to think about that one. Her mind is tired. It takes a while for her to start.

“Sometimes, I regret nothing,” she slowly starts. “Because being like I am… it brought me here. Despite what’s happened here in the last two years, Storybrooke has been more my home than the Enchanted Forest has ever been. And casting the curse - It gave me Henry.” It’s true. If she hadn’t done what she’d done, she wouldn’t have ended up in Storybrooke. She wouldn’t have had the chance to adopt the most precious boy in the world. She can never regret Henry. “But then, other times… I regret almost everything. The choices I made. Losing myself, being too weak to stand up to my mother and Rumple. Or to Snow, or the... the King. I should’ve fought harder. At the time I maybe thought I couldn’t, or… but I should have. I was weak. I should have fought tooth and nail.” 

“Do you think you could have?” Archie asks, and she sighs. 

“I don’t know.” Her shoulders sag, and she shivers. She leans back until her back rests against the couch. “I just know that I should have.”

He looks at her, tilts his head a little, much in the same gesture his dog often does. “The hardest step we all must take is blindly trusting in who we are.” 

“I used to do that. Look where that’s gotten me.” She shakes her head, grimaces. She scratches Pongo behind his ears.

“Alive,” Archie simply says. “Regina, you are not to blame for the things your mother or King Leopold did to you. The choices you made afterward might be a different story, but in essence, it was all to keep you alive. To keep you going. It has brought you here.”

“But to what price?” Regina quietly asks. “How does my survival justify my deeds?”

“Maybe it’s too early to answer that,” Archie says, getting the leash from his pocket. Pongo barks, slowly wagging his tail while realizing his playtime is over. “But we’ll get there.”

Regina clutches the coat tighter around herself when she nods. She can’t feel her toes anymore and her gloved hands aren’t doing any better. “Are you all right going home all by yourself?” he wants to know and she smiles. Always so concerned. “I’m _fine_ \-- I will be fine,” she corrects herself. The correction brings a small smile to Archie's face.

They walk together in silence until they reach Archie’s office, where they say goodbye. “Regina,” Archie, says, and Regina, who’d already been turning, stops. “You said you lost your life before you died. But you’re taking it back now. And I just want to say, and don't take this the wrong way… You’re doing great.”

Regina smiles tiredly. “Thank you, doctor,” she says before she continues her way. It’s not just the icy wind that sends shivers down her spine, she knows when she swiftly makes her way over to the safe, warm environment of her house. She’s freezing and can use a long, hot shower to warm both her body and soul.

Her phone beeps. She sighs, rolls her eyes when she sees who it’s from. Of course, it is, she scoffs. But there’s a fondness that settles in her stomach.

 _I was released from the hospital this morning._ Regina checks the time. It's nearly noon, she sees surprised.

 _I’m glad. Are you okay?_ she replies.

_Back in shape in no time. Haven’t seen you in a while. You okay?_

_I’m fine,_ she types. Her fingers are freezing even despite her leather gloves so she shoves the phone back in her pocket, buries her hands deep in them as well as she strides home. It is cold but the wind removes some of the dark thoughts in her mind. It settles her nerves somewhat and she feels slightly calmer as she reaches her front porch. 

~*~

“Mom!”

After this morning, she’s been a little restless. So she thought today would be as good a day as any to make her garden winterproof. She’s raked the leaves that fell from the apple tree before, pulled out some weeds, and cut some of the hedges. It’s satisfying work, it distracts her from her thoughts and the exercise makes her feel good about herself.

But her son’s voice pulls her from her work and the unexpected makes her whirl around. Henry, with the grey and red scarf she once made for him flapping behind him, hat on his head, sprints towards her. 

“Henry,” Regina says surprised, “What are you doing here?” She catches him easily as he throws himself into her arms - the hug is very welcome after everything she’s worked through with Archie in their impromptu session. She didn’t even realize she needed one until her son wrapped her arms around her. His scent fills her nose and she pushes her face into his hair, pressing a kiss on his head. 

“Visiting you,” she hears an all too familiar voice. Emma. Something tingles in her chest. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I am feeling much better now,” Regina says to Henry, cupping his face and smiling a little strained before gazing in Emma’s direction. Emma watches them amused, hands in her pocket, a grey hat on her head. “Let’s get out of the cold, shall we?” And so they quickly make their way inside, where the temperature is a lot more comfortable. 

Henry shrugs off his coat. “Can we maybe make lasagna for dinner?” 

“Only if you’ll help me make it,” Regina says, putting her own coat away before she turns to face Emma. “If that’s all right?”

“Hey, I’m not turning down your lasagna,” she says, eyes shimmering. Henry bounces off into the kitchen and Regina wants to follow him, but Emma stops her with a raised hand. “Regina, are you really okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Regina answers, back a little tense. She’s still not used to the friendship so freely offered. The questions about how she’s doing. “I woke up early and couldn’t fall asleep anymore.” It’s true, but it’s not the entire truth.

“We hadn’t seen you in a few days and after the mines… We haven’t had a chance to talk.” Emma seems suddenly nervous - as nervous as Regina is. There is the magic to discuss, the tearful goodbye. 

The kiss.

But she can’t, not now.

“Not today,” Regina says, flustered, and she wants to pass Emma, but a soft hand on her upper arm makes her halt again. 

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.” The emotions are still running high and she can’t fall apart. Not with Emma and Henry here. “I… I went to see Doctor Hopper, today,” she blurts out, “And a couple of times this past week.” Emma’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything as Regina inhales deeply. “And I just…. So much has happened. We’ve barely scratched the surface and… it already devastated me to acknowledge what had happened in my past. Let alone what’ll happen if we really dive into it.” She doesn’t know why she’s telling Emma until Emma nods, a corner of her mouth turned up in understanding. “So, please. Not today,” Regina adds.

Emma smiles at her. Almost beams at her. “I’m proud of you,” she says sincerely, and Regina can’t help but snort in disbelief. 

“I _am,_ ” Emma insists. “I don’t mean it in a patronizing way. I’m not my mother.” 

Thank goodness she isn’t. Regina’s eyes find Emma’s. There’s so much more they have to talk about, but after this afternoon Regina just can’t. And fortunately, there’s a ten-year-old with as much patience as either of his moms.

“Are you guys coming?” he yells from the kitchen. “I’m _starving_.”

Regina raises an eyebrow at Emma. “Those are definitely your genes.”

“And I’m proud of it,” Emma retorts a little smug, tapping her belly. Regina only smiles at that and goes ahead into the kitchen, Emma right behind her. 

“You’re going to sit down there,” she orders the blonde. “You’ve been released from the hospital this morning so you should take it easy. We’ll cook,” she says, nodding at Henry who beams back at her. 

Emma wants to protest, but a glare from Regina shuts her up. “Fine,” Emma grumbles, and Regina nods in satisfaction. 

“Good. How do _you_ feel?” she asks while she gets the necessary vegetables out of the fridge.

“I’m good. A little tired, from both the concussion and my hovering mother.” Regina smiles at that. 

She puts Henry to work by chopping onions, slicing tomatoes, and grating cheese, while she takes it on herself to make the pasta. There’s something calming about creating food and the easiness with which the three of them come together as a family soothes Regina’s troubled soul. This house hasn’t heard much laughter in the past years but when it does, it feels more like home than it ever did during the first 28 years that she lived here.

It’s nice, not to have to feel the weight of all her wrong decisions for a little while, she thinks during dinner as she listens to the friendly banter between Emma and Henry. She hopes there will be more of those in her future - also knows she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Because hope, as she told Doctor Hopper, is a dangerous thing. Especially for someone like her. She might be okay now, but she knows it doesn’t take much for her to relapse. To fall back into her old behavior. 

“Mom? Can I stay over again?”

Her son pulls her from her thoughts. “Of course,” she smiles brightly at him, but then her eyes flash at Emma. “If it’s all right-”  
  
“Sure! The loft is getting a little cramped now anyway with David living there as well. And unfortunately, there isn’t much space for, uhm, privacy.” Her cheeks flush. “Kinda walked into them. Twice, already.”

Regina cringes. “Thank you for a vivid mental image, Miss Swan,” she sighs, disapprovingly. “I’ll have to brew a memory potion to get that particular horror out of my mind.”

“Oh,” Emma says, eyes wide. Her gaze turns hopeful. “Can you do that? I mean, I wouldn’t mind forgetting either.”

“Moms,” Henry sighs, but when Regina’s eyes find him, there’s a fondness in them. “Can we watch a movie?”

Of course, they can. Henry settles for Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, which results in Regina pointing out all the ways in which the magic is wrongly displayed in the movie while she and Emma nurse a glass of her homemade cider. Henry groans every time until he simply ignores her, and Emma just watches them both, highly amused. Henry falls asleep at three-quarters of the movie and they bring them up together, pull his shoes out, and tug him in before they softly leave the room.

Once downstairs, Emma takes her coat. “I should be going,” she says, “And I’ll pick him up tomorrow morning. His school bag is still at the loft.” 

“All right,” Regina nods, only once. She waits until Emma turns for the door but instead, the blonde shoves her hands in her pockets. 

“Are you sure you are okay?” Emma's investigating eyes search her face for any sign that she isn't.

Regina tilts her head a little. Then nods. “I had a good day,” she quietly says. “And all things considered… that was unexpected. So thank you for that.” She takes a step closer, a little unsure of what to do now. Fortunately, Emma is not too shy to take the reins and closes the remaining distance. A gasp escapes Regina’s lips, one filled with anticipation. But instead of kissing her, Emma envelops Regina in a hug. She feels how strong arms slip around her shoulders, how Emma’s strength surrounds her. And she exhales. Feels how her body instantly relaxes in Emma's arms. She makes it easy for Regina to return it and she buries her face in Emma’s neck, arms around Emma’s waist, their bodies warm against each other. 

There’s always a voice in the back of her head that she doesn’t deserve this, that she shouldn’t get used to this because Emma knows nothing about her Evil Reign and she’ll be repulsed when she finds out, but she just squeezes her eyes together and forces the voice back. She lifts her head. Emma does the same, and she loses herself in those soft, green eyes. A warmth settles in her belly. And then, she doesn’t really know why because there is so much to consider, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss on Emma’s lips. She tastes the cider and the specific taste of Emma, which she is growing addicted to. She tells herself not to grow too attached but also knows it’s too late already. 

She already hopes. She’s a fool because hope has never gotten her anywhere. And there’s still Neal to consider - and the thought of him works as a cold shower. Before Emma can deepen the kiss, Regina lets her go and takes a step back, and inhales deeply, feels how her cheeks are warm. She has to withhold herself from pressing her cool hands against her face and softly scrapes her throat. “If you’re here at 7.30, you can join us for a decent breakfast instead of the abomination that’s called sugary cereal which you’ve been feeding him,” she tells her with a raised eyebrow to break the sudden tension in the air that’s weighing on her shoulders. Emma looks a little flushed - much like herself, probably - then grins. 

“I’ll be here.”

And with that, she turns to open the door, locks her gaze with Regina’s for a final time. There’s warmth in her eyes, emotions that Regina can’t - or won’t - understand, but she smiles anyway. “Sleep well, Miss Swan.”

“You too, Madam Mayor.” 

And with that, she steps out and locks the door behind her, not allowing the cold to invade her warm house. Which is now still physically warm, but Emma’s warmth has disappeared after she closed the door.

Regina sighs and makes her way to the kitchen, cleans up. Loads the dishwasher, wipes the counters and when she’s done, she hesitates. She’s exhausted and could possibly sleep for a day, but she also knows what lies ahead. Nightmares are lurking around the corner, waiting to dig their claws into her as soon as she falls asleep.

And still, she goes upstairs. Changes quietly, brushes her teeth. Slowly makes her way to the bed. She takes a book with her, to distract her mind, but after reading the same page five times without registering any of it she gives up. So she lies awake, dreadfully waiting for the sleep to claim her until it finally does.

~*~

There are at least fifty bodies in the ditch, Regina sees horrified. Dread and despair claw at her, create a lump in her throat so big that she can barely breathe. “There is still good in me,” she whispers like a mantra, her gaze traveling over the lifeless bodies carelessly thrown together. Pale eyes are staring into nothing. Bloodied arms are draped over each other. There’s gore everywhere. Men. Women.

Children.

No, she breathes, sick of the view, realization striking that she is the cause of this. She ordered this. She feels nauseous and retches. It can’t be. Her eyes desperately try to find any form of life, but she can’t. And then, there, she sees someone familiar.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

His young form bent in an unnatural way, head limply to the side. His empty eyes gazing at the sky. Blood splattered all over his chest.

_Henry._

She chokes, can’t breathe. Her hands fly to her throat, mouth opening and closing, but she’s not able to make a sound. Thrown into a panic and no, this can’t be. She takes a step forward, looks for a way to get to him. Save him. She has to _try._ But there’s so much blood. His glassy eyes see nothing and she feels how her throat screws tight.

“If this is your idea of good, I want no part of it,” she hears behind her and Regina swirls around. She’s standing eye to eye with Snow White, who’s drawn an arrow, nocked it to her bow and she’s ready to let go.

“Kill me,” Regina whispers, “Please.” Because if Henry’s not there, there’s nothing to live for. 

“Oh, you _will_ die,” Snow answers darkly, mouth turned downwards in disgust, “but your life is not mine to take.” She nudges her bow to somewhere behind her.

“They will know what to do with you,” she says coldly.

Regina gasps as she feels a firm hand around her ankle. She looks down. A pale, bloodied hand has taken a hold of her and she tries to pull loose, but the grip is stronger than she thinks and she falls to the ground. 

Horrified, she looks around, as the sea of dead bodies starts to move. One by one, they wake up, their empty eyes turn in her direction. 

She tries to kick at the one that holds her, tries to scramble away but another one takes her second ankle. They are strong, she realizes, horrified at the view of dead bodies, crawling over each other to make it to her. They pull and she feels how she moves, while she desperately claws towards the closest tree. Digs her fingers into the cold foresty floor until they start to bleed. But they won’t let her. Cold fingers dig in her thighs. Their pants, growls, growing louder in her ears. She desperately turns her head, finds Snow’s cold and unforgiving eyes.

“You’re getting exactly what you deserve.” Then, she turns and walks, just as Regina’s pulled into the ditch further, pale dead bodies groping her, suffocating her with their weight, Henry’s lifeless open eyes above her until -

Mom? Mom! Please wake up!” 

With a choked gasp and a muffled cry, she flings herself upright, throwing Henry backward on the bed. She’s coughing, gasping, heaves in fresh air as she grasps her duvet and pulls it close, fingers cramping.

“Mom!” Henry cries out and she hears him over the deafening thundering of her heartbeat in her ears. She jerks her head around, finding him and she sees his eyes, filled with fear but, oh, thank god, he’s so very much alive. A sob escapes her throat.

“Henry,” she breathes in sharply, and she stretches her arms out for him. Needs to feel his warm body to eradicate the violent memories. He complies immediately, scrambles over towards her, and wraps his arms around her neck. Buries his face in her neck.

“I heard you scream,” Henry says, voice trembling. “You had a nightmare and I couldn’t wake you up. _You weren’t waking up._ ” She closely wraps her arms around him, tighter than he would normally like but he lets her, senses his mother’s need to hold him close. She feels wet on her shoulder, knows he’s crying and it makes her feel worse.

“Oh dear boy,” Regina gasps. She buries her nose in his hair. “I’m sorry I scared you. I had a very, very bad dream.” The worst so far. A shiver runs through her entire body and her hands, albeit firmly wrapped around Henry’s frail body, can’t stop shaking.

“Can I stay with you tonight? In your room?”

Regina can’t talk and simply nods. She slowly lets him go and he slips between the covers. “I’ll be right back,” she murmurs, while she steps out of the bed to the bathroom for some water. She splashes it into her face to calm down and looks at her reflection. Sees the haunted eyes, the outright fear of losing her child. And then her body starts to shake violently as it lets go of all the tension. She inhales sharply.

“Mom? Are you okay?” His voice sounds small.  
  
“F-fine, dear,” she brings out, “I’ll be right there. Try to sleep.” Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. Repeat. She repeats it until she’s certain enough she won’t burst out in tears when she sees Henry and then, she swallows hard. Straighten her back. Wipes the silent tears from her red-rimmed eyes before she returns to the bedroom.

Henry has fallen asleep already and she is grateful for it. And yet, when she slips under her duvet, he makes his way over to her in his sleep, draws a protective arm over her waist. Her dearest child, her beautiful son. She inhales a shaky breath.

Regina spends the rest of the night watching him, doesn’t want to fall asleep again. 

Utterly afraid of what nightmares still lie in waiting for her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, anxiety. It'll get better, eventually. I promise :)

Emma is late - of course she is. Regina didn’t expect otherwise. It’s as if the blonde is incapable of getting somewhere on time. It doesn’t matter. Regina was up early, too scared to fall asleep again. When she finally felt that she was giving in to sleep again it was around five in the morning and she decided to get up. The entire kitchen has been given a thorough cleansing before she started baking a generous stack of pancakes. And because it was rather therapeutic to make food, she continued with baking waffles and cookies. She pressed fresh orange juice and has just started making eggs when Henry comes downstairs.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Regina says with a smile. She knows her lack of sleep shows but she ignores it, and wills him to do the same. He blinks at the enormous amount of food, ogles her warily but then his stomach rumbles and he chooses food over questions. 

While he quickly shovels his food in his mouth, she makes coffee. Strong coffee. Her limbs are heavy because of the lack of sleep and her eyes are burning. But every time she closes her eyes for more than a couple of seconds she has visions of Henry’s dead gaze and she blinks a couple of times, not able to pull her eyes away from her son, who fills his plate with more pancakes. In that regard he’s exactly like his biological mother, she thinks.

Emma arrives fifteen minutes late. “Help yourself,” Regina offers, not saying anything about the time. Emma halts for a second - there’s always a comment whenever she’s late - studies Regina intently and it makes Regina turn her gaze away. She can’t deal with it, not right now, and shakes her head lightly. Emma drops it - for now, because Regina knows eventually, the blonde will come back to it.

Instead of worrying about that, she takes Henry’s backpack, stacks it with lunch and pours coffee - she doesn’t know how many she’s had already - placing one of the mugs in front of Emma. She smiles when Emma moans while inhaling her eggs and pancakes, much like her son is doing. “This is so good, Regina,” she sighs when her plate is empty, rubbing her belly. 

“And so much more nutritious than sugary cereal,” Regina smirks. 

Emma shrugs and she checks her phone. “Oh, shi- Kid, we have to go otherwise your bus is leaving without you.” 

“Okay,” Henry says, sliding off his chair. He moves around the kitchen island and hugs her - a gesture that feels so familiar, yet still so strange again at the same time. “By mom, see you later.” 

“Have fun in school,” she says, answering the embrace. She inhales his scent, knows it might be a while until they see each other again. “I love you, Henry.”

“Love you too, mom.” His voice is a little muffled in her clothes. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You are most welcome, sweetheart.”

Emma gets up and waits for Henry to return with his coat. She observes Regina, who’s suddenly very busy cleaning up again, trying to avoid a conversation she doesn’t want to have. “You look like shit. Did you sleep?”

Regina suppresses a snort. Emma's as eloquent as ever. But she doesn't look away, and Regina sighs. So maybe she _is_ having this conversation. “As… well as could be expected,” she replies, breathing out simultaneously.

“But-”  
  
“I’m ready!” Saved by her son. Regina smiles at him and walks with them to the door. She catches Emma's gaze. It's darker than usual. Her frown a little deeper. But she can't address it, she won't in front of their son, and Regina shakes her head lightly. It only earns her a scowl as she opens the door to see them out. "Have fun, sweetheart," she tells Henry, presses a swift kiss on his brown hair and he groans loudly that he's too old for that. She smiles at that and watches them leave. And when she locks the door behind them, she rests her forehead against it. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Time to clean up the kitchen. Again. At least it gives her something to do. It distracts her mind.

She’s barely started when she hears a firm knock on her door. And when she opens it, she’s not surprised when she sees a certain blond sheriff leaning against one of the pillars of her porch, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. She’s as stubborn as her biological son, like a dog with a bone. She should've known she wouldn't get off this easily. Regina folds her arms in front of her chest. 

“When were you going to tell me about your nightmares?” Emma says. It’s not an accusation per se, but it somehow feels like one, and she swallows her first, sharpest reply. Henry, she thinks. Regina should have known this was something he would probably want to talk about. It had actually surprised her that he hadn't said anything over breakfast.

She sighs and shakes her head, not really know what to say.

“Henry’s worried about you. Says you had them both times he stayed over.” 

“He did?” she murmurs, shifting uneasily now because he'd only been awake during one of them.

Emma nods and it makes Regina’s heart drop. She inhales shakily. She had never wanted to burden her son with it all but he is smart. Clever enough to figure out why she had ended up in his bed after what happened last night. She feels how her eyes water and she turns away. “Poor boy,” she mutters, sagging against the door. 

Emma’s quick to step in and she grabs Regina’s elbow. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

She weighs her chances. Being scared of her own nightmares, even though based on her own gruesome past, is pathetic. It shows her weakness. It makes her vulnerable. 

It makes her feel sick. 

She opens her mouth to lie, but she sees Emma’s frown. _I always know when you’re lying._

“Hardly,” she admits a little reluctant.

Emma’s frown deepens. “Look," she says sharply, "I want to help you, but you have to _let_ me. I can't do anything for you if you don't _talk_ to me.”

Regina grits her teeth and wants to rise to the challenge. She doesn't need anyone. But the lack of sleep catches up to her. “I… It takes some getting used to,” she confesses, “to have someone who wants to help. Or well - someone who I’m not paying to do so, anyway,” she grimaces. 

She turns, moves back inside, back to the kitchen, and grabs the edge of the counter, knowing that Emma will follow. Her fingers ache from the tension, but it's better than addressing her coiling emotions right now. She feels the bodily warmth as Emma comes to stand next to her as silent support. 

“I stayed awake after Henry woke me,” Regina confessed. “I was… too frightened to go to sleep again.” 

“Did your session with Archie trigger it?”

“Not the session per se,” Regina answers. “But we’re... I am talking with him about the horrendous things I’ve done in my life. Reliving those…” She shudders involuntarily. "I can only imagine those trigger _something_." There's a short pause as she thinks about what she wants to say.

“Henry told me he wants to stay with you until you’re better again,” Emma then says, interrupting her train of thought. 

Regina’s head snaps up and she gasps. Her initial response is joy because there’s nothing more that she really wants than for Henry to permanently return to live with her. But the reason behind it - she can’t stand for it. “He shouldn’t be feeling so responsible for me,” she says vehemently. “It is not his place -- he's a _child_.” Dead eyes enter her mind and she blinks violently to get the image out. "He should stay far, far away from any of it," she adds miserably.

“Yeah, I agree. He should. So I told him that if he’s staying, then I’m staying.” 

“No you’re not,” comes Regina’s immediate response. “You too, shouldn’t have to deal with my… issues.”

“Yes, I am. Because he’s worried out of his mind about you and so am I, Regina.” She defiantly raises her chin.

"You _just_ left the hospital and you're healing from a concussion," Regina snaps. "You need your rest."

"So, you can either show me your guest bedroom if you have one - sleep is the best medicine, remember? -, or I’ll crash on the couch, but I’m not going anywhere." The tone in Emma's voice doesn't leave any room for discussion. This woman is immensely frustrating, Regina believes, and always annoying the crap out of her. She wants to protest, but she finds herself holding her silence. 

Because it’s a comforting thought, not to be alone for once. Having someone to talk to. She inhales deeply. “But what about Neal?” she blurts out.

“What about him?” Emma’s frown deepens in confusion.

“He… the day you woke up, he said he wanted another chance with you. To, I don’t know, play house together with his perfect little family,” Regina spits out.

Emma looks at her quizzically, and then her face pulls into a knowing smirk. “Why, Madam Mayor. Are you _jealous_?”

Regina scoffs. "Why the hell would I be jealous?” Regina huffs as a retort. It had just hurt like hell and that same hurt she can’t suppress at this very moment. Not when she’s so vulnerable. 

Emma tilts her head, narrows her eyes, but doesn't continue teasing her. “Forget Neal. He’s someone from my past, and granted, he’ll probably be a little in my future because he’s Henry’s father and Henry actually _wants_ him in his life, but he’ll be nothing more than that.” She smiles a knowing smile and Regina scowls. "You should, I don't know, see him as a glorified sperm donor."

Regina eyes her suspiciously. Doesn't really know how to say anything that will prove to Emma that it is, in fact, jealousy speaking. The first time she'd encountered that emotion, last week in the hospital, it had been a very unpleasant surprise. “But Henry wanted you two to be-“ She can't even finish her sentence, but Emma sighs impatiently.  
  
“Henry’s _ten_. Almost _eleven,_ ” she states, eyes flashing. “And I love him to pieces, but he is not going to dictate who I should be with or what I should do. And I'm sorry, weren't you eavesdropping at the docks during the conversation Neal and I had on the docks? He's an ass.”

“He’s pretty persistent,” Regina mutters. And even though she hardly believes that Emma would want to be with her - it’s probably a poor choice of words - it warms her heart a little.

“So am I,” Emma simply says. She tentatively takes a step towards Regina, who stays rooted in her spot. And then, Regina succumbs to the pressure of both Emma Swan and her absent son. She sighs deeply and feels how a flint of tension leaves with it. 

And she caves.

“Up the stairs, the last door to the right,” she murmurs.

"What, now?" Emma asks.

"The guest bedroom. Up the stairs, the last door to the right," Regina repeats. And she realizes that it’s the first time that anyone has ever made use of that particular room. Her eyes flash towards Emma. “Now you’re here anyway, you can help me clean up. I’ve had a baking frenzy to keep my head free from everything, so you can eat cookies after.” 

Emma smiles and shrugs, steps away from Regina to give her a little space and Regina appreciates it. She laments it at the same time. And when she catches Emma’s gaze, she’s shocked that she sees her own feelings reflected in hers. But she quickly recovers, grabs the empty plates, and brings them to the dishwasher. Emma soon follows, handing her the glasses. It feels so domestic and easy and _normal_ and she’s not used to it all, that she can’t wrap her head around what’s really happening. But their easy banter and bickering which they always have going on are so familiar that Regina sometimes forgets her tiredness. And when Emma goes to pick up Henry and brings him home, she apologizes to him. 

“I’m sorry you had to see it,” she tells him, fingers itching to reach out to him but instead fold around a cup of tea. 

“I’m sorry it happened to you. Are you okay now?” he asks her, a hint of worry on her face.

I am fine, she wants to say, but she also remembers _no more lying._ “No, I’m not,” she quietly replies. “But I hope that… someday I will be.” It has to be enough for now. And it is, when he narrows his eyes and nods only once.

“Okay.”

Emma and Regina help Henry with his homework and they end up making dinner together. The friendly bickering continues, now added with Henry’s complaints and remarks. And Regina tells herself, when she sends Henry upstairs to get ready for bed, it’s not real. It’s because they want her to be better, to do better. They’re helping her to get through this and then, this whole facade will end. They will return to the loft and that’s that.

It shocks her how much that particular thought hurts her. Because she finds herself liking these kinds of quiet, _normal_ family-like days. There are no expectations besides having food in their bellies at some point and she finds that she appreciates the little obligations that come with it. She knows she doesn’t deserve days like this, but she would not object to having them for the rest of her life. She could definitely get used to it. And that’s where things will get dangerous. Because, as she told Archie, if you’re getting a glimpse of hope and it’s taken away from you, it hurts more than if you never had something at all.

It’s too late. She wants all of this. Even if she’s not entitled to it. And that’s something she’ll have to live with, something she’ll always have to keep in the back of her mind. Because she can’t go back to who she once was if it all falls apart.

She sits with Henry for a little while, and he’s allowing her to stroke his hair as she reads to him, even though he’s proclaimed to be too old to be read to. But tonight, he indulges her and it reminds her of the quiet nights they had before. It’s nice. For a moment, she can forget about everything. But then her voice makes his eyelids go heavy and he slowly drifts away.  
  
She doesn’t even know how that goes anymore. Sleeping like a baby hasn’t applied to her in a long time.

Regina is so tired after almost a whole night without sleep, but she knows that if she has to, she can probably fight it off for another night. She has never needed a lot of sleep. However, with her own memories and the dreams still fresh on her mind her soul is exhausted. And when Henry’s fast asleep, she thinks it would be so easy to just curl up next to him and fall asleep. She doesn’t, and instead, she walks down the stairs and she follows the sounds into the kitchen.

She is pleasantly surprised when she sees that Emma’s cleaned the kitchen and is waiting for her with a cup of tea, which she gladly accepts. Emma eyes her carefully. “So, how are we going to do this?” she asks, her own hands wrapped around her own tea. 

Regina stares at her tea, keeping some distance between herself and the blonde. She doesn’t want to add more to her anxiety; it’s high enough as it is already. “I honestly have no idea. I thought about soundproofing my room so that Henry doesn’t have to hear it.” She doesn’t want to place that burden on her son. He feels too responsible as it is already. 

But Emma shakes her head. “You can’t. I can’t help you if I can’t hear you.”

“I’m still getting my head around you wanting to help,” Regina confesses, much to her own surprise. She must be more tired than she thinks if she lets confessions like that slip. She bites the inside of her lip, refraining from blurting out more like it. But Emma doesn’t reply right away. She sips from her tea, appears to be sunk in thoughts.

“Are you scared?” Emma asks then, voice soft. 

Regina doesn’t reply right away. Because yes, she is, but it feels like she’s going against her nature if she admits it to Emma. But she’s exhausted and Emma sniffs out her lies easily, so her shoulders slump when she just nods.“Terrified,” she murmurs. The horrors of last night are still fresh on her mind. “I don’t know why. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had nightmares. But they’ve never been as vivid as they have these last couple of days.” 

“Do you want me to sit with you? When you go to sleep?” Emma asks. 

Regina snorts in disbelief. “And you sleep what, in a chair?”

A small smile tugs on Emma’s lips. “Oh, please, Madam Mayor,” she snarks, “I did stakeouts for a living, remember? I can run on fumes for days.”

But Regina shakes her head. “You just go to sleep in the guestroom. I’ll call for you when…” Her voice dies. “I’ll be fine,” she says, more firmly now. “It already helps to know that you’re here.” She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince Emma or herself. There’s a frown on the blonde’s face now but Regina glares back, not backing away or averting her eyes. And finally, Emma concedes with a sigh. 

“Fine. But don’t lock your door.” 

~*~  
  


“You’ve become weak, my dear. I'm disappointed.”  
  
Regina sits upright in her bed instantly, panting heavily. She isn’t sure what woke her up; if it was a dream or… maybe something else. “Really, Regina? Are you relying on the Savior to… _save_ you? How pathetic.” 

Definitely something else. The disappointment dripping from the all too familiar voice is something she’s very much used to. It’s also a voice she hadn’t expected to hear ever again.

Mother. She turns her head to the armchair in front of her window. There’s hardly any light coming in through the widow, the sky is overcast. Only a faint lantern shines a dim light, casts shadows in the room. And new shadows form as someone stands up from the chair, the form all too familiar. Regina’s heart pounds in her chest, so hard that she fears everyone can hear it.

Cora Mills is very much alive and Regina inhales a shuddering breath, clutching the duvet to her chest. “Mother,” she breathes, “How are you alive?”

“Oh please,” Cora scoffs. “You need more than a simple cursed candle to take me down. Spells _can_ be broken. You should know that. In fact, I'm rather upset that you didn't think of it, before.” 

Regina blinks. Can't wrap her head around what her mother is saying. Could it be that the candle was nothing more than some sort of curse -- much like the sleeping spell that makes you _seem_ dead? She shakes her head lightly. Anything's possible. It's just something she has never thought about before. But say that it is, then this is the second time that Cora seeks her out after her daughter was responsible for nearly killing her. A shiver runs down her spine.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Regina asks quietly. Part of her is relieved because this might be another chance, but it is also very much clear that Cora’s heart has left her body again. She can’t blame her mother, not after what’s happened, to keep her heart secure, but the realization makes Regina’s own heart drop at the same time. 

“I came here, hoping to see you’d avenged my death," she says, creating quotation marks with her fingers. "Instead, you’ve been… fraternizing with the enemy.” Cora’s lip turns up in distaste. “What are you hoping to get out of it, my dear? Redemption? Forgiveness?”

Exactly that. She blinks the fog from her mind and bows her head. Her mother always had the power to make her feel small. Weak. And there’s a pang of guilt involved now, because, in the end, it was _she_ who shoved her mother’s heart back into her chest.

"I-" she starts, but Cora interrupts immediately.

“Oh, my dear. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for,” her mother says with flashing eyes. She’s clearly angry but Regina doesn’t know yet if it’s directed towards her or someone else. “If _someone_ should ask for forgiveness, it’s that insipid Snow White.”

That, Regina can silently agree on. Snow has never taken any responsibility for her own part of ruining Regina’s life. Several times, actually.

“What’s your plan, my dear?” Cora continues, “To finally have your revenge? I am sorry that our plan to end her and her family didn’t go down the way we wanted, but there’s no stopping us now. Not as long as they think I'm still dead.” She smirks devilishly. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” She raises her hand and taps her lower lip, eyes never leaving Regina’s half-naked form. “You’re trying to establish a... sexual bond with Snow’s daughter and finish what you should’ve done decades ago.” Cora's smirk leaves her face. The cold sneer replacing is so familiar that it sends shivers down Regina’s spine. She remembers that look. It meant that she was in for a severe punishment after disobeying her mother. After so many years, her body is still conditioned to tense up when she sees that look lining her mother’s features. “You’re going to effectively ruin Snow White’s pureness by killing Emma Swan.” 

Regina’s eyes grow wide. “No, mother, I’m _not,”_ she retorts immediately, horrified. 

“Yes you are,” Cora purrs, moving closer to the bed. “Your mother knows best, sweetheart. You’ve proven to be too weak to handle things properly on your own but fortunately, I am always here to help you." Regina shakes her head, hears _I got you_ in her mind but Emma cannot help her right now. Cora continues, "It seems you’ve momentarily forgotten your purpose, your revenge, but I’ll get you right back on track.”

"Why is this so important to you?" Regina argues. "I... I don't _want_ revenge. I need _another_ purpose. A new fate. I want to be better than that."

Cora tuts. "Revenge is who you _are_ , sweetheart. Snow White took _everything_ from you. It's time to take everything from Snow White. And I'm going to motivate you."

“How?” Regina whispers, a knot in her stomach. She dreads the answer and wants to cry out, alert Emma. But she’s frozen in her spot on the bed. She doesn’t know if it’s her own reaction to seeing her mother or if her mother’s frozen her with a spell, but she doesn’t seem to be able to move. 

“The same as I did last time, sweetheart,” Cora purrs and she flicks her hands. They’re surrounded by dark purple clouds, darker than her own and they re-emerge in the guest bedroom, where Emma’s fast asleep. “By killing someone close to you,” she adds darkly.

The reference to Daniel doesn’t go unnoticed, but then, Cora cackles. "No, wait. I am not going to kill this one. This one is going to be all yours, Regina." Desperation slams into her when she sees the sleeping woman. Emma’s lying on her belly, head to the side. Regina has never seen her so peaceful, so relaxed, and she probably never will, either. She opens her mouth to say something but Cora raises her hand, effectively silencing her daughter. “I would very much like for you to snap her scrawny little neck right here on the spot, but I'm guessing you won't, am I right?” 

Regina shakes her head violently. She can’t. She _won’t._ They’ve been through so much together. Breathing in a shuddering breath, she steps away from the bed, still unable to speak. “No,” she says, softer then she likes. "No, I won't."

“You disappoint me, my dear,” Cora mutters with a frown on her face and she flicks her wrist again. 

Regina’s eyes grow wide with horror when she sees who Cora has summoned, fear clawing at her throat, suffocating her - she feels the need to throw up. No, no, no- _no._ Cora holds Henry in her arms, pressed tightly against her own body. His face is scrunched up in sleepy fear and she gasps his name. “Mom!” he cries instead and helplessly, Regina looks at Emma’s sleeping form. She’s stirring slightly now, her forehead creasing at the sound. Henry tries to wriggle out of Cora’s grasp. “Mom, _do_ something,” Henry desperately tells her. But Cora effectively holds him, silences him, and freezes Emma on her bed. 

“What’s the one thing I’ve always told you, sweetheart?” 

Regina knows. She swallows.

“Right,” Cora continues, proudly. “Love is weakness.” She pulls up a corner of her mouth but Regina can hardly call it a smirk. “Now, dear daughter, I’m going to make this real easy for you.” Regina’s breath is taken away by the cold, dead look in her mother’s eyes. “Choose one.”

Regina shakes her head violently, fighting back her tears. She can’t choose, not between her son and her son’s other mother. The only person who held onto her when even she thought she was lost. 

“Choose, darling,” Cora says darkly. "We haven't got all day." And when Regina’s haunted gaze meets her mother’s, her blood turns cold at the sight of her mother’s pitch-black eyes. “Choose," Cora repeats, "Or I will.” A sword materializes in Regina’s hand. A kris dagger, similar to the Dark One’s, appears in her mother’s, and Cora presses it against Henry’s throat. His movements still, scared of what’s going to happen. Regina chokes on her own breath, feels sick, feels the need to throw up as her gaze flies between her son and the woman on the bed. It's hardly a choice and she hates herself because of it, as she all but stumbles to the bed. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ she repeats in her head, _please wake up, please help me fix this._

“Today, dear,” Cora barks, “We don’t have all day.” Regina’s eyes flashback to Henry and she sees his silent cry when a drop of blood runs over his neck. He begs Regina with his eyes. _Don’t,_ he’s pleading, _don’t kill my mom._

Regina retches, and then chokes on a sob as she lifts the sword with hands that she can’t stop from shaking, aims it at the sleeping form on the bed. A tear slips from her eye, rolls over her cheek, and splashes onto the mattress. Her mother laughs, pleased with her choice. Her palms are sweaty, her throat is screwed shut, she can hardly _breathe._ Regina knows she will never recover from this. _Oh God, please forgive me-_

Emma’s eyes snap open, just before she takes the blow. Betrayal, hurt -- darkness.

“Regina! Wake _up_!”

Her body jolts up, arches from the bed, and she tries to inhale the air through a throat that’s screwed tightly. She claws at her neck, eyes wide, and feels the bile rise quicker than she can swallow. 

She topples over, makes it to the side of her bed before she empties her stomach content next to it. She coughs fiercely, gags again, and again until there’s nothing more than stomach acid leaving her mouth. Her body contracts vigorously, repulsed by what she saw, what she endured so _vividly_.  
  
And then, she feels a warm hand on her back, steadying her, comforting. “I got you,” Emma murmurs and Regina shakes her head powerfully, tries to shake off Emma’s hand but Emma doesn't retract. Keeps her hand placed firmly at Regina's lower back and then, Regina collapses. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Regina howls, unable to stop the floodgate of tears that have unwillingly opened. And Emma pulls her close, clutches her firmly against her own, warm body; an arm around her shoulder, another one stroking her hair - and it's not only Emma, Henry, too and she is horrified that they both have to see her like this, like a miserable pile of a human being. But they are _comfort_ and they have their arms wrapped around her as she sobs and sobs against Emma’s shoulder. They whisper to her, kind words. _It’s okay. I got you. We’re here. I love you, mom. It wasn’t real._

She doesn’t know how long it takes before her sobs lessen, before her heaving breaths become a little easier. Before she stops shaking so violently. Her muscles, so tensed before, start to relax and immediately ache after. She whimpers. Her breath is still shaky as she slowly pulls back. Utterly ashamed of and disgusted with herself.

“There you are,” Emma murmurs with a soft smile, gently striking Regina’s hair. Regina lifts her hands, buries her face in them. She can’t face either of the people on the bed with her. 

“You should… go back. To sleep,” Regina says, voice wavering. 

“The hell we are,” Emma replies immediately. “We’re not going anywhere until you’re telling us what’s happened.” 

Regina shakes her head. Her eyes hurt from crying. “I can’t,” she quietly says with a half sob. “I can’t.” She finds Henry’s eyes and he looks at her with worry and fear. She can never tell him what she was about to do. She can't tell him about the horrors of her sleep. She doesn't want to tell him all the horrible details - hell, she doesn't even want to tell Emma.

“We’re calling Archie first thing tomorrow morning,” Emma says vehemently, eyes filled with worry, “Because this, this shouldn’t happen. This is not okay. And maybe he’ll have some ideas about why this is happening.” She pushes a wisp of dark hair behind Regina’s ear. Regina feels sweaty from the nightmare and from crying and she is still breathing unsteadily. She feels filthy, and not just because her throat still tastes like vomit, but also because of the choice that she had made. She loathes herself for not standing up to her mother, not even in her dream, for not finding another way. She should know by now, because of this damned Savior, that there is always another way.

“I need a shower,” she murmurs because there’s too much love and care and she doesn’t deserve any of it and she needs to be alone to collect her thoughts. She pushes Emma away, maybe a little rougher than needed, lifts her hand when Henry wants to say something. With trembling fingers, she cups his chin. “I’ll be all right, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “I just… need a shower.” Then, she scrambles off the bed, barely missing the vomit, cleaning it up with one wave of her hand. 

“Don’t lock the door,” Emma warns her, “or I’ll kick it in if I think something’s going on.”

Regina pauses as if she wants to say something, and then refrains from doing so before she marches into the bathroom and closes the door behind it.

She doesn’t lock the door.

Instead, she stumbles into the shower, turns the temperature to blistering hot as if she wants to obliterate all the thoughts from her mind, as if she wants to punish herself for always making the wrong choices, and then, her knees are buckling and she sinks to the floor. She didn’t know she had more tears to spill but this time, she cries silently, without making any sound. The horrors of Henry’s blood tickling over his throat, Emma’s peaceful sleepless form while a sword hovered over her, her mother’s pitch-black eyes - they’re etched into her brain and she can’t unsee them, even though she rationally knows none of it was real.

They’re so effective because _it could have been real_.

There’s a layer of veneer over who Regina really is now, a new layer that wants to do right by her son, a layer of regained humanity but it’s so thin. So fragile. Under pressure, it will shatter into a million little pieces. _Love is weakness_ , she hears her mother’s cold voice in her head. She wraps her arms around her legs, buries her face in her knees, and ignores Emma, who’s knocking on her bathroom door. The scorching water chisels her back but she welcomes the physical pain, because it distracts her from the horrors that play out in her mind.

And then suddenly, the water stops running. Regina tenses at the sudden change and the cold coming in soon after, but she is too exhausted to even lift her head. “Oh Regina,” she hears - Emma’s scolding her, but her voice is gentle, soothing, and she feels a thick towel wrapped around her, rough against her sensitive skin. Emma pulls her up to her feet, gently dries her inflamed skin and Regina endures it willingly. She just can’t move anymore without help, too exhausted. 

And then, Emma pulls a t-shirt that isn’t Regina’s over her head, helps her into some snug pajama pants, and guides her back to bed. “Henry’s back to his own bed. I had to cross my heart and promise him that I’d take care of you and that I wouldn’t leave you alone anymore tonight,” Emma quietly says. Regina’s exhausted and her sore eyes tear up immediately again.

“I had to choose,” Regina whispers, voice shaking as she steps into the bed. She sits upright and the mattress dips when Emma sits down next to her. Automatically, Regina searches for Emma’s hand - a strength she needs right now, and breathes in deeply. “Between you and Henry. My mother forced me to. She had him. You were sleeping. I… I chose…” She shivers violently again, chokes out a sob.

“Henry.” 

Emma’s tone is gentle, understanding and it makes Regina shake her head again. “He begged me not to.”

“Sounds like him. Even in a dream.” Emma smiles at her, squeezes Regina’s fingers and Regina just can’t understand why Emma’s more upset. 

“Why are you so understanding? I chose to killyou."

Emma looks at her, she can feel it, but she can’t meet her eyes, afraid of what she might see in them.

“Because I would probably have chosen the same.” 

Now, Regina’s head snaps up.

“No. You would’ve found another way,” she automatically says and it makes Emma raise her eyebrows.

“Would I? I’m not so sure.” Emma frowns at her. “That’s more my mom’s way than mine.” 

“You’ve never given up on me and tonight - I gave up on you. I can never-” 

“If you’re going to say that you won’t forgive yourself for it, shut it, Regina,” Emma suddenly snaps and the words are spoken so vehemently that Regina’s head jolts upright. 

“It was a dream and, I admit, a violently real one apparently, but I saw what it did to you. I _know_ you would never purposely hurt me. And please, _don’t_ turn me into a hero. Because I'm not so sure I am one.” Emma’s eyes flash and Regina can’t do anything but stare helplessly in that stormy green gaze. “My heritage doesn't prove _anything._ If anything, it’s been a burden so far. I’ve never asked to be this -- this _Savior_. To be a hero. I’m not. So please, don’t turn me into someone I’m not.” She blinks swiftly. “Because I almost _had_ chosen Henry.”

Now, that’s a story Regina wants to hear, she thinks, blinking. Emma sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “The day in the mines… We couldn’t find a bean. And I would have left you behind to die if it weren’t for Henry.” Her gaze turns pained now. “I was ready to leave town. My mother tried to convince me that there had to be another way for all of them to survive but there really wasn’t. And I was ready to stuff Henry in my car and make a run for it. Only… he beat me to it.” She smiled strained.

Regina’s heart squeezes painfully. It’s not what she had expected to hear. Emma has always been there to catch her - even did so during that day in the mines, despite her intentions. "I specifically told you to leave town," Regina counters. 'i don't hold that against you. And besides, in the end, you still saved everyone.”

“No, I didn’t. You did,” Emma argues, a little frustrated. “You gave us the extra time we needed. You gave Henry enough time to get to you. There was enough time for me to follow him. That was all you. I just… helped in the end.”

“You give me too much credit,” Regina murmurs.

“And you really should start to believe that there’s still good in you,” Emma sharply says, but there’s an additional tone that makes Regina look up to meet Emma’s gaze. And the passionate fire that she sees in Emma’s flickering gaze takes her breath away. “You’re way, _way_ more than any of your former titles, Regina. You just have to start seeing it.”

Regina chews on her lip but tilts her head. Her emotions still churn inside her, and yet, she finds herself… intrigued. Warm, on the inside. Emma sighs. “I see the smiles you fake. How you try to ignore your pain, and how you try to stand strong because I do the same. I guess it takes one to recognize one,” she smiles, a little strained. “It’s easier, right? To keep everyone out. I’ve seen how strong your emotions are. How hard you hurt, how hard you love. How strong your devotion is. And I think you’re a better person for it.”

Regina scoffs. She feels the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes. “Those strong emotions inflicted a lot of pain on a lot of people that didn’t deserve it,” she counters.

“Well, maybe. But I guess that’s a byproduct of being pushed too far. And I activated it, too, remember? You lashed out because of Henry and you were right to,” she adds sheepishly. At some point, I was convinced you weren’t good enough for him and I wanted him away from you. I even went to Archie for advice, but he kind of opened my eyes. Told me that everything you’d done so far was to keep your family together. So, uh, I guess I owe you an apology for that.” 

Regina nearly snorts. “I nearly killed Henry in the process,” Regina says, still beating herself up over that particular happening. An involuntary shiver runs down her spine, her mind filled with could be's and might have’s.

Emma sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “We can’t change the past, Regina. But we can influence the future. We’re beating destiny, remember?” she says, a little mischief on her face. "Destiny can go and fuck itself." Regina shakes her head automatically, but Emma continues, on a more serious note. “And in order to do that, you _have_ to go a little easier on yourself. And trust me on this, you’ll see that others will go easier on you then, as well.”

Regina’s invigorated by the passion with which Emma speaks and she inhales deeply, finds her own breathing a little shaky. 

There's a short pause before Regina clears her throat and says, “I do, you know.”

“What?” Emma asks.

“Trust you.” 

There’s a loaded silence. And then, Emma’s mouth turns into a lopsided smile. “I’m glad.”

It’s like a small weight is being lifted from Regina’s shoulders and with it, the exhaustion returns. It’s hard to keep her eyes open but she dreads going back to sleep. And she’s almost afraid to ask Emma… “Will you stay?” she blurts out before she can think about it too much.

Emma blinks. “Here?”  
  
“Yes,” Regina says quietly. 

“Of course,” Emma immediately replies. Regina scoots over to the side of her bed, allowing Emma to turn and tuck her legs under the duvet. Regina turns to her side and faces Emma. The green gaze reminds her of the trees in the Enchanted forest, so vibrant and grand. So steadfast. “Go to sleep,” Emma murmurs, “I’ll be here.” 

Dread coils in her stomach and Regina blinks fervently. “I don’t know if I can.” 

There’s a long silence. So long that Regina thinks that Emma might have fallen asleep with her eyes open, while Regina’s still fighting her own demons. But then Emma blinks, scoops a little closer. “Come here,” she says and before Regina knows it, her head is resting against Emma’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around Regina, and her own arm draped over Emma’s waist and they’re sharing their warmth. Apart from Henry’s hugs, it’s the coziest thing Regina has ever experienced, she thinks with heavy eyes. And she realizes she feels _safe._ For the first time in years, she feels protected, watched over, salvaged.

“Now, go to sleep,” Emma repeats firmly. Regina hears the way Emma’s voice resonates in her chest and it has a soothing, calming effect on her and before she knows it, she falls asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Descriptions of abuse/rape

Regina wakes up slowly, and her groggy mind needs a little while to take in the situation. She’s in almost exactly the same position as she fell asleep in, which only indicates how much she needed a couple of hours of undisturbed sleep. Her head is resting on Emma’s shoulder, her arm draped over Emma’s waist. Emma has her arm wrapped around Regina’s shoulders and is slowly drawing circles on her upper arm, which sends little electric shocks through her arms. She shivers lightly and Emma stops. “Good morning,” she murmurs. “Your alarm went off five minutes ago but I killed it.”

Regina blinks the sleep from her eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you needed to sleep and I figured a couple more minutes couldn’t hurt. Besides,” Emma smirks, “You look cute in your sleep.”  
  
Regina withdraws a little, feels how her face heats up. “I do not,” she huffs irritably.

“Yes you do. I’ve never seen you so peaceful.”  
  
There’s an image in her head, all of a sudden. A flashback to her dream. The way she had thought Emma never looked so peaceful before, right before Cora gave her a sword. She swallows thickly and an involuntary shiver runs over her spine.

“Yes, well,” she murmurs, pulling away and pushing herself up, “I need to get Henry ready for school.” She feels how she closes herself off. Don’t feel too much, she reminds herself. This is not for you. This is temporary.

But then she looks at Emma Swan in her bed and her heart picks up its pace. It’s far too late to close herself off. Her eyes wander over Emma’s features, travel down to where her body disappears under the covers. And it would be so, so easy to just lean over and-  
  
“Mom?”

Her head snaps into the direction of the door and she inhales deeply. “Henry,” she says, and she motions him to come closer as she slides to the edge of the mattress. He complies immediately and wraps his arms firmly around her. Regina buries her face in his hair. “Thank you,” she murmurs and she feels how he smiles against her shoulder. There’s movement behind them, indicating Emma is getting up too, but instead of coming closer, she gives them some space. And Regina appreciates her all the more for it. 

“Are you okay?” Henry asks a little muffled against her shoulder, and it makes Regina sigh. 

“Better than yesterday,” she says, as she releases him. He frowns, but before he can say anything, she adds, “And that’s good, Henry.” She runs her fingers through his hair. “Things like this… they are not solved in a blink of an eye. It takes time. But as long as there is progress, step by step, I’m doing good.”

He wrinkles his nose as he thinks about that. “Okay,” he then murmurs, still not really satisfied with the answer but he knows it’s the best he’s going to get right now. “If you say so.”

“Go get dressed,” Regina tells him, and she nudges him to the door. “I’ll do the same and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” And when he leaves and she turns, she sees Emma has already left the room to get dressed in the guest bedroom. Regina inhales deeply. Step by step, she reminds herself. 

Henry clings to her the entire morning and Regina understands why, she really does, but she hates that he worries about her. It urges her to contact Archie while Henry’s finally eating his breakfast under Emma’s supervision and she agrees to an impromptu session after Henry has left for school. 

Regina is nervous - she always is for sessions with Archie, but this one is really bothering her. It’s one thing to spill secrets from her past. It’s another to slowly go insane and having to talk about it. “Will you… Do you maybe want to come with me?” she asks Emma impulsively after Henry has made it safely onto the bus.

Emma tilts her head in surprise. “Sure,” she says, “I can wait outside if you-”  
  
“No. Come with me.” She’s a little taken aback that she has come to rely on Emma the way she has. But she _does_ and if it helps to have her present when she works her way through this all, so be it. Emma is safety, knows how to ground her. And she’s going to need it.

Emma silently nods. Together, they make their way over to Archie’s office, arms occasionally bumping against each other. The weather is cold, but Regina feels - or thinks she feels, maybe it’s just a lot of wishful thinking - Emma’s warmth through their coats.

If Archie is surprised that Emma steps inside with Regina, he doesn’t show it and Regina appreciates his professionalism. He waves at the couch on which both of them take place, but while Emma leans against the backrest, hand casually draped over it behind Regina, Regina sits on the edge of the couch, back rigidly straight. She waits until Archie sits down as well. 

“What’s happened?” he starts, and she swallows thickly.

“Well, these last couple of nights, and before, too...” she starts, a little uneasy. She sighs softly and tells him about her nightmares. “I always had them,” she starts. “I can’t remember the last time I really slept through a night without them. First, they were about what I had… gone through. Daniel’s death. My marriage,” she adds, waving vaguely to the air. She doesn’t want to go into detail right now. “Later, they were the accusations of my victims. Especially after... “ She pauses, turns her head to Emma. “The massacre.” 

Her gaze travels from Emma to Archie and back. “But lately, they have intensified. They’ve never been so... frighteningly real.” She shivers involuntarily. “It’s like I can’t break free. Like I’m really living them.”

“When did they start to become like that?” Archie asks, a slight frown on his forehead.  
  
Regina thinks for a minute. “After us saving the town,” Regina says, her own brow furrowed, as well. She turns to Emma. “They started to be really frightening when you were in the hospital.” Emma raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. 

Archie shifts his legs. “You started coming here around that time. It is not uncommon for patients to dream, or even experience nightmares when they’re starting therapy. Dreaming is basically how your mind processes the things that happened to you during the day.” He smiles sympathetically. “In your case, we’ve discussed some very… distressing subjects,” he adds, eyes briefly wandering to Emma, not sure what it means that she’s also present, not sure what she knows about Regina’s past. And Regina appreciates his carefulness, though she also believes it has its root in the argument they had just before Archie disappeared -- an incident that seems ages ago. He is still careful not to overshare, even though this time, it is Regina who has brought Emma in the mix.

“Stress and negative emotions can also result in intense nightmares,” Archie continues, “and you’ve experienced both during the sessions here.”

“So, I should stop this?” Regina says, brow furrowed slightly.  
  
“No,” Emma says at the same time as Archie tells her, “Most certainly not.” The savior and the therapist look at each other with a glance of understanding. “It just means that we might need a different approach. When you experience too much stress, your body produces a stress hormone called cortisol. It keeps you alert, sharp. Ironically, your body can break it down easily by a good night’s sleep.” He scribbles something down on his notepad. “Exercising also helps, or,” again, his eyes flash at Emma again, a blush creeping to his cheeks, “cuddling with your loved ones.” He smiles sheepishly as his gaze wanders between the two of them. 

Regina feels a blush creep up from her neck as she carefully avoids Emma’s eyes. They woke up this morning the same way they’d fallen asleep last night, but they haven’t talked much about it yet. And she’s almost reluctant to admit that waking up like she had - albeit still being as tired as a dog - she had felt infinitely better.

“Anything else?” she murmurs, eyes firmly focused on her own intertwined fingers in her lap.

“No alcohol or caffeine before you go to bed.” Regina smirks. Even though she might nurse a cider or wine before bedtime, she’s no alcoholic. “Or I can give you a prescription for something that can help you relax.” 

Her head snaps up. The mere realization that she might need supplements makes her feel weak, a familiar feeling these days. And it suddenly feels as if her life slips through her fingers and she doesn’t have any sense of control anymore. Frustration builds up inside her and she grits her teeth. She has to rely on other people now to get through the days. Archie. Emma. _Love is weakness_ , her mother reminds her in her head. And suddenly, it’s crystal clear that her reign as a queen is over. She’s nothing anymore. Nobody. And even though she had welcomed that idea when she’d just casted the curse, it riles her up right now.

“I’m not taking pills,” she snaps, shoulders tense.

“All right,” Archie offers. “Another way to relieve one of your stress factors might be… confronting your past. You’ve told me about a couple of traumatic events in your life. Future steps entail talking to people who were maybe partly responsible for them. Confronting your memories and the people connected to them can work to your advantage.”

Regina scoffs. “You’re basically telling me to talk to Snow White? _That’s_ your advice?”

Archie smiles almost apologetically and adjusts his glasses. “Basically, yes. And there are others.”

“The last time I confronted her, she skimmed over the facts and I fed her a poisoned apple,” Regina bites out. “What makes you think this time will be any different?”  
  
“Well,” Archie says, eyes crinkling kindly. “For starters, you have people on your side this time. But I believe you to be too…. unstable to plan it any time soon, Regina.”

“Unstable?” she sputters, outraged.

“If anything, your nightmares indicate that you have severe issues with coming to terms with yourself and your past. I suggest you confront the parts that you can influence yourself, first, like your emotions. Your self-image. And set up a controlled confrontation with people from your past at a later time.”

Regina scoffs. “What makes you think that she would be willing to sit down and listen, anyway?” Just talking about it riles her up, proving Archie’s point immediately. She doesn’t even _want_ to talk about any of it with her nemesis. 

“I believe that she has as much to gain from it as you do,” Archie answers. “Even though she might not see it like that right now. She is also still seeking answers in your shared past.” 

She shakes her head, which causes Archie to lean forward just a bit. He eyes her carefully. His eyes are still radiating kindness, but a small frown is now creasing his brow.

“Regina… you came to me because you wanted help,” Archie says, carefully watching her response, “and you told me that you would like to look at yourself in the mirror without having the Evil Queen staring back at you… but you’re also violently denying yourself any kind of forgiveness - from others as well as yourself. It makes me wonder if you want to forgive yourself in the first place. If you’re ready to.” He eyes her carefully, registers her every movement.

Regina swallows thickly. And she sighs, shakes her head. “I don’t know.” 

“Then, tell me… What exactly is it that you want to gain from your time with me?”

She smiles, a little bitter. “First, I just needed someone to talk to,” she answers. “Maybe someone to fix me. But I know that’s impossible. I can’t be fixed.” There’s self-loathing in her voice and she closes her eyes when she hears Emma leaning forward a little.

And then she feels it - the flicker of hope that both Henry and Emma sparked inside her stomach. That after all the death of destruction, there might be something good inside her. Not necessarily good as Snow White or her shepherd or the others included in the Charming clan, but something to hold on to. “I just want… peace of mind, right now. I’m not sure if a happy ending will ever be in my cards, but I’ll settle for a quiet head. And some sleep, perhaps.”

There’s a silence that weighs heavier than it probably should. And then, she feels a soft, tentative hand at the small of her back - she turns her head to catch her gaze. 

“You can be happy, Regina,” Archie tells her gently, and when she turns back to him, she sees how convinced he is, “I’m sure of it. The only one who’s standing in the way of it, is you.”

“He’s right,” Emma murmurs. “You’re always so hard on yourself.”

And for a split second she feels as if they’re teaming up against her, but before she can characteristically lash out and put them in their rightful place, Emma takes her hand, laces her fingers with Regina’s, and Regina is unable to say anything. 

There it is again. That feeling of _trust_ that is still so foreign to her. She breathes in deeply. And there, in the pit of her stomach, buried deep down, she feels it again. That tentative flicker of hope. Hope of a better future. Hope that she can be more than her past. Hope is foolish, she tells herself. Hope leads to destruction, death. Hope, ironically, leads her right back to the Evil Queen. 

And still, maybe she’s a fool to believe, but with two against one, she can’t do anything but cave - and hope, despite the consequences.

~*~

Emma stays. Makes sure that Regina is not sleeping alone. After that first night, Emma’s tentatively suggested she should share a bed because apparently, it eased Regina’s mind. And even though she hates to admit it, it helps. _Weakness, weakness_ , echoes her mother’s voice through her mind every time she looks in the mirror while brushing her teeth. But every time she steps into her bedroom and finds Emma waiting for her there, the voice evaporates into thin air.

She’s still a little weary of sleep. And Regina doesn’t know why or how, because Emma doesn’t ever ask for anything, but Regina starts to talk about her past. The same stories she’s told Archie. Because for some reason, not having it just inside her mind anymore but to be able to talk about it also lifts the burden from her soul. It makes her sleep better. What did Archie say about that, again? Acknowledging your mistakes helps you forward. 

Maybe, a voice sometimes whispers in the back of her mind, she’s still waiting for Emma to turn her back on her. Maybe this is a way of really testing her, to see if she’s going to stay even after all the horrific things she’s done. There’s this part of her that’s still convinced that Emma will be repulsed when she hears her darkest secrets. The part that doesn’t believe Emma still wants to stay when she sees how broken Regina really is. 

But Emma doesn’t run. She stays put. She listens quietly to Regina’s soft, almost whispering voice. Sometimes they sit against the headboard. Sometimes they lie beneath the covers, faces turned towards each other. Sometimes, Emma asks something to clarify, sometimes she just reaches out for Regina’s hand to show her support. Most of the time she just offers her a listening ear and Regina appreciates the lack of pity. She doesn’t need it. 

She unfolds her history in a monotone voice, almost as if she tries to distance herself from her own history. Only choking at the part in which she tells Emma how she made herself infertile to prevent either her mother’s or the king’s claims on her future children. It had hurt like hell but it had proven to be very effective. “The first years the King had my maids watch my cycles closely. He wanted another heir. A son, he said. He mentioned once that Snow had always wanted a brother.” Suppressing the shiver that runs over her back with the memory, she scoffs. “Every month they calculated the week I was fertile and he’d summon me to his chambers. I was frightened to go at first. Sometimes they almost had to drag me in there. They couldn’t understand that I didn’t want to have to do anything with him. It made me hate the castle and everyone in it. I couldn’t trust anyone.” Her voice wavers. “He was older than my own father.” 

Emma closes her eyes for a second, before she tentatively lifts her hand and places it on Regina’s arm. 

Regina’s quivering sigh seems to echo through the room and she swallows thickly a couple of times before she continues. “After a while, I just… blanked out. I created a place in my mind to escape to. A dreamworld. A gate to space, so I could walk among the stars. A place where I was beyond reach. Some nights I hardly remembered anything, I just felt… dirty. Sore. You never really know how strong the power of imagination is until you... “ Her voice breaks and she feels nauseous. She’s never talked about it in so much detail. Not even to Archie. But the darkness of the room and the quiet, shimmering green eyes, make her push on and she inhales deeply to steady her voice. 

“I’d suffered through two miscarriages before. The potion I took was the miscarriage of all my future children. But it was effective. Mother left that day and I didn’t see her for a very long time after. And the King… well. His visits became less frequent after another year of no pregnancies, so the potion had achieved its goal.” Her voice has a bitter lining now. It shouldn’t have had to be like that. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And she’d been very, very desperate.

She feels a hand on her wrist. Fingers lacing with her own. Silent support. Emma doesn’t say anything and Regina appreciates it. Another sigh escapes her lips. 

“It’s very peculiar doing things you’d never in your life imagined, just so that you can live another day to do them all again, and more. And worse. I destroyed myself. One day at a time. And I took down the world around me in my fall.” She stares at a point above Emma’s head. “Sometimes, I still find myself trapped in the illusions I created for myself. It’s just… easier to cope.”

“Life isn’t easy,” Emma finally whispers, “Especially not for people like us. But the only thing we can do is to not let it control who we are. Or who we want to be. Because if you let it… you’ve really lost.”

“Maybe,” Regina concedes after a minute of silence. Then she abruptly changes the subject. “Do you know that I had dreams about you, too, when you came to town and you were on the verge of breaking the curse?”

“Hm, you did?” Emma sounds surprised but lets her change the subject easily and Regina appreciates her all the more for it. She doesn’t want to talk about infertility or the King anymore, needs to be able to breathe again. “Good ones or bad?” Emma grins.

“Hm,” Regina hums, curling her own fingers to wrap around Emma’s hand. “I only have nightmares, remember? But it was right before I baked you the turnover and Henry…” she stops talking. “It was a vivid one. Nowhere near the ones of earlier this week, though, but still... You and your family tied me to the tree, saying it was time to take back your happy endings. Henry was there, too, saying I did it to myself. And then Charming handed you a sword and you swung it at me - and I woke up.” 

Emma smiles. “Well, rest assured. I don’t want to kill you. Never have, actually.” 

Regina frowns a little. Doesn’t know if she can really believe that. “But your dream was right on one account,” Emma continues, “Because it is time to take back your happy ending. You’ll need that thick skull of yours in order to enjoy it. So let’s keep it attached to your body for a little while longer now, shall we?”

Regina closes her eyes and chuckles. “You’re an idiot.”

Emma simply shrugs and Regina sighs, feeling how she’s slowly drifting off, a feeling of relief in her chest. She doesn’t fight it, not with her fingers firmly intertwined with Emma’s. 

~*~

“Regina? Regina, wake up.”

Regina feels how her cheeks are wet from crying as she is pulled out of her dream, registers the voice next to her, the warm hand placed on her shoulders. Fingers in her hair as she whimpers and sniffs softly. “Wake up,” Emma whispers urgently.

The dream of abandonment lingers in her mind and automatically, Regina turns, still sniffing over something she can’t really put her finger on. Emma’s arm slides under her shoulder and she pulls Regina close. The soft whimpers don’t stop leaving her throat and neither do the shivers that run over her back or tears leaking from her eyes, wetting Emma’s t-shirt.

“It’s just a dream,” Emma softly says, gently stroking Regina’s hair, “It’s not real. I’ve got you, Regina. I always will.” 

Always. Another violent shiver runs through Regina’s body, something that makes Emma hold her even closer. Her breath, still unsteady from the choked sobs, brushes over Emma’s neck as Regina pushes her face in Emma’s hair. The fresh flowery smell of her shampoo calms her nerves somewhat. 

The dream lingers in the back of her mind - it was a less vivid one than the previous two, but still. Accusations after her sharing her story publicly, people rallying behind Snow White. Emma and Henry, too. A portal opening. People stepping through, stepping away from her, leaving her. Until finally first Henry, then Snow, and then Emma went through. She wanted to run towards them but her feet were stuck to the floor, and as the portal closed, the town vanished and she was alone. Again. 

The distraught she still feels unnerves her, makes her claim Emma in a way she never has before. Emma, who whispers comforting words, eases her mind. Regina’s arm curls more firmly around Emma’s waist, she slides her leg over Emma’s hips, because she needs to feel as much as she can of Emma.

And she doesn’t know why, but she presses her lips on the pulse point in Emma’s neck, which draws a sharp gasp from the blonde. 

“Regina-”

“Sssh,” Regina murmurs, pressing her nose in the blonde’s hair, fingers trailing up over Emma’s body. Her mouth curves into a smile as she hears the soft hiss escaping from Emma’s mouth. And then-

“No- wait.”

The sharp tone in Emma’s voice makes her freeze, and it’s like someone dropped a cold bucket of water over her. “I’m… I’m sorry,” Regina says and she pulls back, but Emma doesn’t let her - the blonde keeps her arms firmly in place around her shoulders. Regina stills completely before Emma relaxes her arms around her.

“That’s not what I mean,” Emma softly retorts. Regina is breathing shakily as Emma searches for the right words. “We always do this when you’re upset. When _we’re_ upset. Our kisses, our…” Her voice wavers and Regina realizes she’s right. Even the last, chaste kiss they shared right after Emma had left the hospital, here, downstairs in the hall before she left, had its roots in Regina’s despair.

“Make no mistake,” Emma whispers as she turns her head a little to nuzzle Regina’s hair, “I really, _really_ want to.” Regina exhales a little quivering as Emma continues, “but it needs to mean more than just… I don’t know, getting it out of your system.” She chuckles. “And you know, coming from someone who’s been on the run for most of her life, that’s _something._ ”

“It’s never been more than that to me,” Regina confesses after a couple of seconds. “Maybe I don’t even know how it can be anything else.”

Emma smiles in Regina’s hair - she can feel it. “Well, let’s find out together then, shall we? But… when we’re both on more solid ground.”

Regina lifts her head a little, tries to capture Emma’s gaze in the darkness of the room. Her green eyes are shimmering in the dark’ they’re somewhat reflected in the faint light from outside the window, but she can’t really read it. She doesn’t understand why this woman would want to be associated with her in any way, but the fact that she does sends warm feelings through her entire being. “Okay,” she says, a little hoarse. Because, how can she not? She has already fallen hard, face forward, into everything Emma Swan. 

“I like you, Regina,” Emma whispers, a confession that makes Regina’s heart skip a beat, and sends warmth through her body, “All parts of you.”

There’s a few seconds of silence. “But how?” Regina murmurs, more than a little baffled. “I don’t think-” She doesn’t understand how anyone can if she doesn’t even like herself.

Emma’s fingers soothingly run up and down Regina’s arm and she sighs. “You’ve been through so much and still, you’re standing tall and proud. You’re so strong. And… you have such a big heart. You feel everything so intense and it makes you so vibrant. You’re sassy, you have an incredibly sharp mind which I find fascinating and incredibly attractive.” Emma chuckles softly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But maybe it’s important that you know. That you’re, I don’t know, likable.” Regina smiles at that. “And important,” Emma continues, softly. “You’re very important to me, Regina.”

Regina lowers her head again, leans her forehead against Emma’s shoulder. Feels how Emma’s words thaw something inside her heart, something that she didn’t know she still had. And when she sighs deeply, lays her head to rest again and snuggles up closely to Emma, she is brave enough to speak. “So are you,” she whispers, more than a little overwhelmed. Emma chuckles softly, presses a kiss to Regina’s brow and then, Regina relaxes. They don’t say anything anymore and they’re both slowly overtaken by sleep again. And Regina rests peacefully.

~*~

They quickly fall into a rhythm; Regina, Henry, and Emma. In the morning they get up, Regina prepares breakfast - Emma has offered, but Regina’s bluntly told her that sugary cereal isn’t breakfast - then, Emma brings Henry to school and goes to work at the station, while Regina roams the streets of Storybrooke, avoiding most of its inhabitants. Every two or three days, she visits Doctor Hopper first. She is still nervous right before all the sessions, but now most of the gruesomest parts have been revealed, it’s easier to talk. To focus on specific details. Even though sometimes, the sessions still leave her a little nauseous. 

She takes long hikes after these sessions because she feels locked up in the mansion and sometimes, in her mind as well, and hadn’t Archie explicitly told her that exercise would do her good? When she returns, her feet are sore but her mind is clear and it makes breathing easier. 

It does help that her nightmares are less vivid. Emma still needs to wake her up sometimes, but it is easy, _so_ easy to fall asleep again when she feels safe in Emma’s arms. She shouldn’t, she knows that but she’s weak and Emma’s there, and Emma is important. She can try to resist, try to deny it but the fact remains that she’s gradually fallen in love with Emma Swan. 

Sometimes, that terrifies her more than her worst nightmares. Because it is _real_.

She ponders over her feelings for Emma as she enters the house after a week, pulls her gloves from her hands as the front door swings open, Emma stomps inside, and slams the door shut. Surprised, Regina turns. “Emma? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t,” Emma snaps without looking at her. “Not now.” She strides to the staircase, skips a step, and disappears from view, and Regina hears her stomping off and then, a door slams shut. Regina blinks. She’s never seen Emma this upset before and is a little unsure about what to do because it somehow feels it’s something that Regina did. She just can’t think of anything. Checking her watch, she sees that there’s an hour left before she needs to pick up Henry and calculates her options. She doesn’t really have any experience with comforting a grown-up woman but she did pretty well with Henry before he turned against her.

So she straightens her shoulders and turns, heads for the kitchen, and puts the kettle on. She’ll give Emma a couple of minutes, and then bring tea and get her to talk. Because if there’s something she’s very familiar with, is that negative thoughts can devour you if you let them. She listens intently, but there aren’t any sounds coming from upstairs so when the tea is ready, she follows Emma upstairs. 

“Emma?” she says, quietly opening the door to the bedroom they now share.

“Go away,” she hears a little muffled. Emma’s lying on her stomach, face pressed into her pillow. It seems so unnatural, Regina realizes, because Emma, at least these last few weeks, has always been the strong one. It makes Regina feel a little guilty because she’s asked so much of the blonde. And it almost feels that she’s given nothing in return.

Well, there’s this.

“I have some tea for you,” Regina offers, unfazed.

“I don’t want your goddamn tea,” Emma replies angrily, not getting up. Regina comes closer anyway and places the cup on the nightstand next to the bed. Then, she sits down, a little unsure about what to say. But a minute of silence is enough to get Emma to push herself up and pull up her knees, but she avoids Regina’s gaze entirely. 

“Do you know what she said to me?” she suddenly barks. “That they’re having a second chance. Like they’ve given me up entirely.”

Confused, Regina turns her body to face Emma, who’s leaning her chin on her knees. “I don’t understand,” she says, frantically searching her brain to see if she’s missed anything. 

“Mary Margaret and David. My parents. They’re having another baby.”

“Oh.” It’s all Regina can offer. Talking about her nemesis still makes her shoulders tense in a pavlovian response. But she can’t let that overtake her, not now, not when Emma needs her. Because even though she says she wants Regina gone, she really doesn’t. Regina knows a thing or two about getting things out of your system now. So she quietly waits, forces her own feelings about Snow White to the background.

“She came by the station and they told me. She’s pregnant. Due in, like, seven months or so? Said this time it’s going to be so different and they get to do everything they’ve missed with me. First smile, first fucking steps.” Emma snorts. “I mean, if they hadn’t given me up, they didn’t need a fucking second chance.” She buries her eyes in her knees. 

Regina moves a little closer. Feels goosebumps over her entire body. Sure, Snow’s words were maybe a little insensitive if this is really the way she’d announced their second child, but guilt rages through Regina as it always does when Emma’s abandonment comes up. “I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry, Regina.” Emma snaps, but her voice sounds tired at the same time. “I know what you’re thinking and don’t. This is not about you.”

“Okay,” Regina says simply. It’s not that she can turn her feelings of guilt off, but she can refrain from uttering them.

“They also had something to say about me spending so much time here,” Emma continues. “Said it wasn’t healthy. That maybe you’d put me under some sort of spell to keep me here.” She barks a mirthless laugh. “As if walking in on them _twice_ while they were having sex didn’t get me away from them on its own. I mean, seriously? Hang a tie on the door or whatever.” She sighs deeply. “Truth is, I rather spend my days here with you and Henry than I do over there. And it has nothing to do with you. It’s just…” She leans back until her head rests against the wall and she looks at the ceiling, eyes staring, seeing nothing. Regina places a hand on Emma’s arm in support and waits. Doesn’t want to interrupt Emma’s thoughts as she figures out what she wants to say.

“Sometimes I think I liked Mary Margaret better than Snow White,” Emma then quietly confesses, “For several reasons. I liked the dynamic we had before the curse broke. We were friends, I guess. The first one I had in a very long time. But now… it feels as if the balance has shifted and she’s tried to make up for not being a mother for 28 years and it’s _suffocating_. Before, we had movie nights and drinks and... Now, I have someone who wants to tell me what I can and cannot do. If she could, she’d give me curfews.” She snorts, laughs a little bitter, and falls silent.

“But what do you want from her?” Regina asks after a couple of seconds. Talking about Snow makes her uneasy, but Emma needs her right now. She can put her own resentful thoughts about Snow away for a bit and try to handle this… regally. 

Emma sighs in defeat. “Hell if I know,” she murmurs. “Sometimes I want her to be my mom, even though it’s fucked up because she’s the same age as me.” She sighs. “And then she starts to fuss over me and tells me I’m a fucking fairytale princess and I have to really stop myself from snapping because when I do, she gets this hurt look on her face and her eyes are getting these doe-like proportions and it makes me feel guilty instantly.” Emma shakes her head, twists her fingers together. Regina can’t help but smirk because she knows exactly which look Emma’s talking about. “I feel like an ungrateful little brat but I just don’t know how to deal with them,” she sighs, “And before I even had the chance to figure that out, they’re telling me that they’re trying again,” she bitterly says. “Having another kid.”

“Well,” Regina offers, a little pensive, “If you’re asking me, it sounds like you’re behaving as a daughter.” She smirks as Emma snaps her head in her direction, brow furrowed. “Children are bound to hurt their parents, Emma,” Regina says, squeezing Emma’s arm gently. “It’s the process of growing up. They have to press the borders their parents have set up for them, see how far they can go, and parents have to let them broaden their horizons within safe boundaries because one day, they are going to be on their own. They have to figure out who they are and even though parents will want to do anything to smooth out their children’s paths for them, sometimes they just… can’t.” 

For a moment, Regina’s thoughts go back to when Henry started to act up. “It means that children and parents will collide because sometimes a child wants more than a parent can offer. Or sometimes, the parents want more than the child wants to give. It’s how parenting works. It’s a constant push and pull. I mean, of course, your situation is a little different, but from what I hear, you’re just trying to fit in, find your place with your family and for that, you’ll argue, make up, and repeat. I admit, the timing of them having another child is a little… unfortunate.”

“It feels like I’m rejected all over again,” Emma murmurs, and Regina shifts to sit next to her. Gently untangles Emma’s fingers, digging in her arms which she still has wrapped around her knees, and laces her fingers with her own, squeezing softly for comfort.

“They’re not rejecting you,” Regina says softly. “I think they, too, are looking for a way to deal with all of this. They’re in the same situation as you are. Suddenly, they have a 28-years-old daughter who they haven’t raised, has found her own way long ago and now, they too, have to find a way to fit in your life.”

Emma is silent for a little while, and then, she sighs, gives Regina a watery smile. “You’re supposed to be on my side and not be all responsible and level-headed and looking at it from their side,” she murmurs a little defiantly, and Regina laughs.

“Well, believe me, I am on your side,” she smirks and the thought that she really means it surprises and warms her, “But I’m not really good at these kinds of talks. And I’m still the Evil Queen, arch-nemesis of Snow White. So if you want me to, I can go over and punch them in the face for you? I’m pretty good at that.”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles back and winces, “I remember.” She shuffles a little and rests her shoulder on Regina’s, whose eyes widen before she puts an arm around Emma - the same way Emma has offered comfort in the aftermath of Regina’s nightmares. It sends nervous sparks through her body because she feels so out of her league, but Emma sighs softly. “I just don’t know what to do.”  
  
“Don’t do anything then,” Regina tells her. “Think it over. Give it time.” She shrugs lightly. “Archie says it’s better if you give it more thought than to act on your impulses.”

“I’m glad he’s rubbing off on you,” Emma says with a snort. 

Regina chuckles. “Well, so am I, dear. But please, do remember that I have no difficulties with slapping your mother in the face. I admit, I’d get some satisfaction out of it for myself, as well.”

“Not sure if that really qualifies as the confrontation Archie was talking about,” Emma shakes her head, and sighs. “Maybe I need one with my parents, too.”

“All in due time,” Regina hums. She feels tension in her shoulders. Talking about Snow, even when it is for Emma, will do that to her. Too much has happened between them for it not to. But Emma doesn’t seem to notice and for that, Regina is grateful. Because - and it’ll be very good for Regina to keep that firmly lodged in her mind - they are Emma’s parents. Emma deserves to have her parents by her side. They will always be in Emma’s life, no matter what is or what will happen between the two of them. She doesn’t want Emma to have to choose between herself or her parents, even though Regina has to admit that she wouldn’t be grieving if she would never have to see the Charming clan ever again. 

“Thank you,” Emma murmurs then, and Regina can’t help but pull her a little closer, press a kiss on Emma’s head. The blonde sighs. And they sit there until it’s time to pick up Henry from the bus.

~*~

The next day, Regina’s phone pings. _Hey, lunch at Granny’s?_

Regina finds herself smiling at her phone. And she stops walking altogether as she realizes what she’s doing. 

She’s smiling dumbly at her phone because she’s receiving a message from the woman she has deep feelings for. Is falling in _love_ with. She shakes her head in confusion.

 _Love is weakness_ , lisps her mother’s voice, and maybe it is, but it doesn’t really feel that way. If this is what being happy feels like, she’ll be weak forever, she thinks. Who could have ever known that the Evil Queen would turn into a sappy little mess over the savior? She lifts her head to the sky in wonder. It happened somewhere between _I believe you_ and her nightmares, or maybe after she stopped fighting herself so much. She still does. She still fights internal battles. But sometimes, she sees glimpses of who she used to be. And she thinks that maybe, _maybe_ there’s still a part of her old self that has survived in a deep-down corner of her soul.

She quickly types out an answer. _All right. See you there in 10 minutes._ She’ll be there in three because Main Street isn’t very long and she can already see Granny’s. 

She wraps her coat a little closer around herself as she briskly walks through Main Street. The wind blows the last autumn leaves through the air but the clouds have made way for a weak, but bright sun. The snow that covered Storybrooke with a thin layer a week ago has vanished again, but it will probably not be the last they’ve seen this month. The cold is still in the air, nips at her cheeks. She should have brought her scarf, but this morning she was so antsy that she all but ran outside.

She looks up at the clock tower. It’s noon. No wonder that she’s cold. She’s been walking around town for almost two hours.

But when she’s in front of Granny’s, she suddenly hesitates to get in and her almost unreal happy feeling from moments before evaporates as she looks through the windows. Granny’s is packed around lunchtime. Today is not any different. And she’s a little surprised to feel that it makes her nervous. The fact that she hasn’t faced… _people_ for so long has made her unsure of how they will respond to her. 

The past weeks, she’s avoided people except for Emma and Henry and she liked that. She liked living in this little bubble with nobody else to think about. Sure, there was Ruby, a little while ago, but she hasn’t seen her since, and honestly, she doesn’t even know what Ruby’s game is. She’s still distrustful of the werewolf, despite her apology. Couldn’t understand her need for proximity.

Through the window, she sees how all the booths and tables are filled up and contemplates if she should wait for Emma outside. And then she scoffs and straightens her shoulders. The hell she is. She is still the fucking Evil Queen. And she’s never backed away from a challenge. So she pushes open the door to the diner a little harder than necessary and is almost content that everyone inside falls silent when she enters, the bell above the door eerily tingling in the silence. She smirks darkly, chin up high and her smirk is quickly followed by a sneer when she strides to the bar.

But there’s something different, she notices after a couple of seconds, when she throws a glowering gaze around. The air isn’t as hostile as it used to be. People are… nodding a greeting when she meets their gaze, even though she’s glaring back. One of them is even smiling and she narrows her eyes at him. Curls up her lip in disgust. What the hell is going on here? _  
_

“Hi, Regina,” she hears a chipper voice and when she turns her head, she sees Ruby smiling at her. This is all too surreal and Regina blinks rapidly. What happened to the cowering town’s people? What happened to her instigating fear? She narrows her eyes at Ruby, but the woman just returns the stare with a smile around her lips. “What can I get you?”

“A booth,” Regina snaps. Her eyes flash wildly from the townsfolk who start minding their own business again and she’s so confused. Ruby is unimpressed with her tone. “You saving the town is the talk of the year,” she smiles, “Have a seat at the bar, there’ll be a booth available in a bit.” 

Good, at least she’ll have her back turned against these morons. She slips on one of the bar stools, catches one set of eyes, and stares at him long enough until they turn their head away. She smirks. It still feels good to be able to do that. Fools.

The bell above the door jingles again and automatically, Regina looks up, expecting to see Emma enter. But her back immediately goes rigid when she sees who enters.

Snow. And the shepherd following her like a puppy.

Her eyes narrow, and her lip curls up in a sneer. She clenches her jaw and lowers her head, looking at the pair through hooded eyes. She faintly thinks it’s getting worse. Her self-preservation kicks in immediately whenever she sees the pair, but apparently, bringing up her history with the White princess on Archie’s couch triggers her more than it ever has. She immediately feels her magic brimming under her skin -- the difference is that now, she can’t impulsively lash out anymore. 

Unfortunately.

There’s therapy, a baby, and Emma Swan to consider. After all, they’re still her parents.

It’s funny, she briefly considers, thinking about the conversation she’s had with Emma the day before, that it’s apparently one thing to talk to Emma about her mother and another to directly be confronted with her. Talking about Snow without having her present allows her to create a mile-wide distance between her and the woman she was once forced to call stepdaughter. That distance isn’t present when they’re suddenly face to face.

Snow catches her gaze and stiffens as she sees the scowl on Regina’s face, but she doesn't back down. The younger woman raises her chin, waiting for whatever Regina is throwing her way. It’s always been like this between them. Push and pull. Attack and defense. 

It’s just too much. She faintly remembers a small moment after her electrocution by Greg when she’d woken up and Snow had almost been… friendly. But all the violent memories are more adamant, more in the front of her mind and they take precedence. 

The situation unsettles Regina. Minutes ago, she had almost felt happy. Now, just seeing her nemesis - especially after Snow telling Emma that Regina might have put her under a spell added to all the other memories - triggers her, makes an angry fire erupt in her stomach. 

Parts of the conversation she had with Archie, about confronting people about their part in her past, flash through her mind. And she realizes that no, she’s not ready. Far from. With all the dug up memories, sometimes still raw and bleeding on her soul and amplified by her nightmares, Regina feels how her old defense mechanisms immediately fall into place. 

“Regina,” Snow addresses her suspiciously, feeling the tension in the air immediately. David only nods warily. Regina doesn’t even bother to reply and turns her head away from them, keeping an eye on them from her peripheral view.

Her nostrils flare. The atmosphere is suddenly cooling down to below freezing point. The air seems static with negative energy. She feels the magic crackling at her fingertips, pulsing through her veins. Forces it back and quietly, breathes in through her nose. Out through her lips. She remembers a dream, the one in which Snow left her to be taken by the dead villagers and she’s crumbling. _Weakness, weakness, weakness,_ pounds her heartbeat in her ears. 

The door opens again and Regina looks up briefly, sees Emma stepping in. Emma quickly assesses the situation, seems to understand what’s about to happen, and steps in between, even though there is enough space between the two women.

“Oh, Emma, I’m so happy to see you,” Snow chirps in surprise, happy that she’s able to break the tension, extending her arms to her daughter to envelop her into a tight hug. “Do you want to sit with us?” Her doe-like eyes flash to Regina before they settle back on her daughter. For a second, Regina recognizes the familiar emotions of betrayal, abandonment, rejection coursing through her, but then Emma stiffly but firmly untangles herself from her mother. 

“It’s nice to see you too, but I’m here for Regina. We’re having lunch together,” Emma says a little primly to her mother and Regina almost has to laugh about the hurt look on Snow’s face. Emma’s mouth is a little downturned. She hasn’t forgiven her mother yet and clearly, they haven’t talked about it yet. 

“You’re here for _her?”_ Snow blurts out and she looks at Regina in disbelief. A dark smile settles on Regina’s face and now, she raises her eyes to meet Snow’s, smiles smugly. Let Snow suffer for a bit. It gives Regina a chance to get her raging insides under control. Her smile fades, leaving only a scowl.

“Actually yes, I am.” Emma looks at Regina, must see the look on Regina’s face she murmurs, “Do you want to leave?”

Regina ponders the question for a few seconds. It would be wise to. But apparently, this situation is taunting Snow, is hurting her, and she just cannot help herself. Because when Regina is hurt, she also _wants_ to hurt.“No. We’ll stay,” she says with a tiny smile around her lips. "Ruby almost has a booth ready for us."

Emma raises her eyebrows, then furrows her brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Emma. I am sure.” This time, her smile comes easier.

Snow’s gaze travels between the two women in front of her. Emma moves a little closer to Regina, who completely ignores Snow and focuses on Emma instead. “What’s going on between you two?” Snow asks in a demanding tone. Her voice is high-pitched. Shrill even. It almost makes Regina laugh - it’s too comical to ignore.

“Jesus, mom,” Emma huffs, rolling her eyes, “It’s nothing of your concern. Stop hovering.” Her mouth downturned in a way Regina hasn’t seen in a while, she shakes her head at her mother. Regina remembers what Emma said about wanting to fuss and mother, as Snow plants her hands firmly on her hips. 

“It _is_ my concern,” she says adamantly, “You’re my _daughter,_ Emma. Of course, I worry about you. Especially when I see you with _her.”_

All right, she can be civil, but when insults start to fly through the air, Regina can’t help but step in. She straightens her back even more, and the tension in her shoulders becomes painful. “What exactly is it that you think I’m doing to your daughter?” she asks Snow in a low, dangerous voice.

“Well, I don’t know,” Snow frowns, defiance in her gaze. “You nearly killed her in the mines because of the trigger you created. Stayed at the hospital for as long as she was in a coma and now, she’s spending all her days and nights with you. Did you put a spell on her?” she asks Regina directly.

“ _Mom-”_

“What other reasons would she have to abandon her family and stay with you?” Snow snaps and Regina’s eyes turn darker, nearly black but before she can say anything, Snow blurts out, “Wait -- are you two _sleeping_ together?”

Emma blinks in surprise and takes a step back, closer to Regina. “What?” Snow’s eyes shoot accusations to both Regina and Emma.

Regina steels her back, her face goes blank. And then, her heart rate picks up again. Pounds in her head once more. _Weakness, weakness, weakness_. 

“Are you seriously this _petty_ ?” Emma snaps at her mother. “Whoever I am or am not sleeping with is _none_ of your concern. You can’t seriously-” Emma starts but Snow breaks in.

“So, you’re not, then? I’m glad to hear that,” Snow says, pulling her own conclusions, glaring at Regina who stares back with a smirk because God, if Snow only knew what had happened between them -- but her smirk quickly disappears upon Snow’s next words. “You’re our daughter. What message would it send to everyone in the kingdom if you’d bed the enemy?”

The diner had gone quiet when their argument started. Everyone’s eagerly listening in. The confrontation between their benevolent queen and the evil one was bound to happen, everyone knows that. They just hadn’t thought they would sit in the front row. Some of them shuffle a little uncomfortable. And they should because Regina is still unpredictable. But others are leaning forward, highly interested in this piece of power play.

And Regina slowly tilts her head a little, narrows her eyes. Because, well, that insult was one too many.

“I believe an apology is in order,” she slowly says, her voice low.

Snow’s eyes fly to Regina and she laughs in disbelief. “After everything you’ve done to us, to everyone, _you_ want an apology?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Regina drawls, voice dangerously low. She curls her hands into fists. Feels her nails digging in her arms, feels how the magic under her skin causes goosebumps. “Because you can call me an enemy as much as you like, but I want you to admit that part of who I am today is because of you. You were one of the people who had a hand in the rise of the Evil Queen. Of _me_. You’re going to own up to that. And after you do, you’re going to apologize to me. Not only for your part in my history, but also because of what you just said.” Regina slides off the barstool. An electric storm rages inside her and her nostrils flare in rage. Purple magic clouds her vision in a way it hasn’t done in quite a while. 

“I am not going to apologize to you,” Snow says sternly, her sickening self-righteousness evident in her voice, eyes flashing to David and Emma in support. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

It awakens something dark in Regina, something she hasn’t felt in a very long time. Something that feels like it is from another life. Black and white. Good and evil. There’s nothing in between. She feels the same frustrations as once upon that time, when they were both standing near Daniel’s grave. When she’d fed her former stepdaughter a poisoned apple. “Contrary to your belief, I wasn’t born evil,” Regina says slowly. “ _You_ had a large part in creating what I am today. If I am owning up to my mistakes, it’s time that you do the same.”

“You’re a murderer, Regina. You eviscerated entire villages. I had nothing to do with that. That’s all on you,” Snow counters, her eyes flashing, mouth downturned. 

“And how about who you had killed?” Regina spits back violently. She vaguely notices that Granny’s taken her crossbow out and starts to direct most of the customers out with a stern, _all right,_ _we’re closing down now, come back soon._ Because of course, they’d expect people to get hurt once the Evil Queen rears her ugly head. 

Nothing ever changes.

Once again, Regina feels backed into a corner by the insipid, righteous fool in front of her. _Weakness, weakness,_ hammers her heart and she refuses to be weak. Not now. It makes her even more adamant in demanding an apology, no matter how petty it may seem. Right now, it’s important.

“I’m not saying you had as big a part in these murders as I had, I _know_ what I’ve done. And I’m owning up to them. All I want from _you_ is you to admit that there’s a part of you that’s at least partly responsible for me getting there,” she barks. 

“What, Daniel? I’m sorry that it happened but I didn’t kill him.” Snow sounds outraged with the accusation. Your _mother_ killed Daniel, Regina. I only found out when you told me about it much later.” 

Regina scoffs. As if that justifies anything. Her anger is boiling on the inside and she can hardly control it when she bites back, “If you would’ve kept your trap shut -”

“I was _ten,”_ Snow sharply counters, ignoring her daughter. “Your mother, a highly manipulative witch, persuaded me to tell and I thought I was _helping_ you.”

“Regina, there’s no way she-” David starts but Regina jerks her head to gaze at him, eyes ablaze, dark and dangerous. “Don’t you have a flock to tend to? They’re right outside,” she snarls at him, vitriol dripping from her voice, sharply pointing at the people still lingering in the outside seating area, curious of what’s happening inside. Morons. All of them. “Stay out of my way.”

And then she feels a stern hand on her arm and she turns her head around. Meets a worried, green gaze. “Don’t,” Emma says, voice low in a near-whisper. “This isn’t the time. We- You’ve worked so hard. You can’t let this make you fall back.” Emma is not a therapist and Archie would’ve channeled this conversation, perhaps steer it into a safe direction but Emma can’t. And yet, Regina realizes, Emma tries, because she’s the fucking savior- it’s practically in her job description to try and save every goddamn one of them. Emma grabs her by the elbows. She digs her fingers into Regina’s arm to get through to her. Regina breathes in unsteadily. Grasps Emma’s arm in return, desperately tries to anchor herself. “You’re a good person,” Emma quietly tells her, pleading with her, trying to ground Regina, “I know you are. You know you are.” And Regina breathes in deeply. In through the nose. Out through her mouth. And Emma’s mouth twitches. Opens to say something, but then they hear a snort.  
  
“Good?” Snow echoes harshly in disbelief. Regina scoffs bitterly. But Snow is Snow and of course, latches onto that sliver of hope.

“Yes. You saved me from a runaway horse.” The memory momentarily softens Snow’s eyes. But the moment doesn’t last for more than two seconds. “And then, we saved you from Cora,” Snow scowls at Regina, who’s all but forgotten Emma’s attempt to ground her as more accusations are thrown in her direction. “My father saved you. And you murdered him in cold blood. He was a _good man,_ and you killed him. Good?” She scoffs. “You’ll never be good. We gave you so many chances. You’re the one who should apologize. For him, for others, for--” 

“Your father _raped_ me, for _years_ ,” Regina roars back, “He _deserved everything_ that happened to him _._ ”

And she immediately recoils and the silence that follows is deafening. Regina knows immediately that she’s revealed too much when the words spill out that she had wanted to keep inside. But there it is, the naked truth. The blackest part of her history laid bare as a festering wound. She pants heavily, feels Emma’s grip tighten around her elbows. She violently pulls away from her. It’s one thing to admit secrets in the dark of the night. But Regina can’t bear to look at Emma. Doesn’t want to acknowledge Emma’s voice as she calls out her name. Can’t handle the pity, the sympathy, not now.  
  
Now, she only wants to channel her anger to the person in front of her.

Her eyes fly through the diner as if she’s only now realizing where she is now the purple haze of rage temporarily lifts. Granny and Ruby stare at her in horror and disbelief as her booming voice echoes through the now almost empty diner. Of course, they won’t believe her. They’re _good_. The combination of chastising herself for what she’s unwillingly revealed in her anger together with the fact that they as well as Snow and David are staring at her in incredulity, makes her upper lip curl up in disgust.

“N-no - That’s a lie,” Snow cries out, horrified that Regina has tainted the image she has of her beloved father. “That’s all you ever do,” she snarls at her former stepmother. “You spread lies! You’ve always been the queen of twisted games! You can’t change, you don’t _want_ to change, you’ve proven that time and again.” Her eyes are wide, holding onto beliefs that she’s had ever since she was a young princess. Never wavering.

“You were a spoiled princess that got everything she ever wanted, while not _once_ thinking about what it cost other people. It cost me a fiance, my virginity, my _humanity._ Now,” Regina spits out with a growl, “let’s try that apology again, and after, you can continue with all your other grievances.”

She’s met with stunned silence as she heaves in breaths, the same way as her opponent does at the other side of the room. She feels a tentative hand on her arm - Emma’s, again - but she violently slaps it off. But Emma doesn’t step away from her. Instead, to Regina’s surprise, she speaks up.

“She’s right,” Emma adds calmly, gazing directly at her parents. “She does deserve an apology.”

“Emma-,” Snow gasps in shock, betrayal on her face when she realizes her daughter sides with her enemy, but Emma shakes her head.

“I’m not saying Regina has no fault in any of what’s happened. She made her choices. She could’ve chosen different paths. She’s responsible for a lot of things.” Emma’s eyes flash to Regina, who inhales sharply. “But if it’s true that you wanted her to be your stepmother when you knew your father would do anything for you, if you broke a promise that resulted in Daniels death, if she asked you to not have her marry the king and you did _nothing_ , then she deserves an apology at the least.” Her voice is steady, but her arms are now wrapped in front of her chest and she keeps her eyes focused on Snow.

“I was a child,” Snow says again, but with less force than before as realization starts to dawn on her, while her eyes are starting to tear up. “How could I have known?” She deflates against David, who steadies her by grabbing her upper arms. “Everyone wanted to be a queen. How could I have known that you didn’t?”

“Because I _specifically_ told you,” Regina snaps. _“Right_ before the wedding.” She remembers begging a ten-year-old girl to talk to her father because she was desperate. And to her horror, she chokes on a sob and she takes a step back. 

Regina forces her face to go blank, void of every emotion as the silence lingers on and the moment for Snow to say anything that remotely resembles an apology, passes. She scoffs. She should’ve known that an apology will never be in her cards. “It’s funny,” she says, tone acerbic, “how apologies and forgiveness are given so easily to some. But it’s so… selective, is it not? So prone to subjectivity. You can’t bear to apologize because it means that you and your family were in the wrong. That you, too, made bad decisions that can hardly see the light of day. You can’t because it would taint your complacent vision of _Good,_ of yourself and everything you think you stand for.” She shakes her head, mockingly. “It appears that evil really is just in the eye of the beholder, is it not? And in the end, you’re still proving to be the spoiled princess you always were.”

Snow remains quiet, opens her mouth to say something in return, tries to comprehend the shattering reality of what had just been revealed, and shakes her head automatically, not being able to comprehend that her daughter has just chosen the other side.

Because there are always sides. Regina knows her rival too well, knows Snow is trying to find all sorts of possible ways in which Regina might have bent the truth. 

And she knows that Snow will always try to shift the blame onto someone else because she can’t begin to comprehend that her own family might have done wrong.

“Regina,” Emma quietly says. And Regina, bitter, angry, and wounded, whirls around to face her. Sees the understanding, the frustration, the- she can’t. 

“Emma!” Snow gasps in disbelief, in _outrage_ as Emma lifts her hands to cup Regina’s face. 

And the combination of Snow’s voice and Emma’s actions, her penetrating, worried gaze while she ignores her mother’s voice, her thumbs brushing over Regina’s cheeks -- it shatters something else inside of her. Wretched, wretched hope. It gets her every time. Her brave savior, ready to stand up for her which means aligning herself with an Evil Queen against her own family. Her breath gets stuck in her throat as she lowers her gaze, first to Emma’s mouth, then she turns away, pulls back from Emma’s hands.

Because she knows, she _knows_ there will always be two sides. It’s just too ingrained in who they are and who they will ever be. And Regina can’t have Emma on her side. Not when it means that she’ll distance herself from her own blood. Her _family._

It means that no matter how Regina hurts, no matter how much is broken now, and no matter how hard she needs Emma -- she has to let her go. No matter how much she appreciates Emma’s interference, her support, and the way the blonde stood up for her, she refuses to let Emma choose between her and her family. Because that’s what this is going to boil down to and she can’t let that happen.

Regina raises her eyes to the sky and snarls at them all, creating distance between herself and the others. “Forget it.” 

“Regina,” Emma pleads, stepping closer, but Regina raises her hands in defense.

“ _No_ ,” she sharply bites at her, despair burning deep down inside, “Forget it.” She needs to go before she does something very, very irrevocable. Her face darkens when she imagines strangling Snow to death. She needs to get the hell out of here before her aggression gets the better of her. Before she does something she might - but perhaps also might not, which unsettles her even more - regret later. Her eyes wildly flick through the room, momentarily land on Ruby, of all people, and she lowers her gaze to the floor.

“Regina, please-.” Emma tries again and steps forward but Regina lifts her arm, waves a hand, and embraces herself with her purple smoke, leaving Emma and her moronic family behind.

She was a fool to believe that an apology was ever in her cards. A fool to believe that she could ever be more than her past. 

A fool to believe that she deserved someone on her side. She breathes heavily, tries to get her aggression and frustrations under control as her heart is shattering. Tears sting behind her eyes but she’ll be damned if she lets any of them out. Rage is what always keeps her going. And she will focus on that.

Her phone goes off immediately but in a fit of anger she drops it and it lands on the floor before she teleports it right back to the diner. She wheezes in hurt, seethes with rage, and starts to frantically pace up and down in a desperate attempt to get both herself and her magic under control, and then, suddenly stops.

She’s teleported herself to her safe place, her vault, where she hasn’t been in forever, but when the purple haze of rage clears up, she notices that there’s something terribly, terribly wrong here. 

She blinks as she realizes that she doesn’t hear the soft drums of beating hearts that she and her mother collected over the years.

The wall of hearts is empty. A few boxes are carelessly scattered on the floor. And when she turns to enter her vault, eyes wide in horror, the terrible realization dawns on her. Her vault has been cleared out of most supplies. It’s almost empty.

Her heart skips, then starts pounding violently in her head as she slowly steps forward. She can’t believe what her eyes are seeing. Her rage momentarily forgotten, she blinks upon seeing the empty table, the scattered items, and the pieces of glass from broken vials and jars on the floor. 

Someone has _robbed_ her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Descriptive violence, torture, guns

Regina blinks slowly, feels the added emotions wash over her as if she hasn’t suffered through enough the last hour. There is shock - someone actually has cleared out her vault, taken her things while she was… not here, obviously. Fear - there are so many dangerous items here that can wipe out the entire town in a heartbeat. Anger - who the hell  _ dares _ to steal from the Evil Queen? Dazed - she can’t believe this is happening, not now, not ever.

She curls and uncurls her fingers, balls her hands into fists until her knuckles are white from the tension. Why, why,  _ why _ ? She takes a few tentative steps forward, further into her vault, lets her gaze wander the empty shelves and dressers. She swallows thickly. It doesn’t feel like her safe space anymore. Someone has violated it. She bares her teeth when her fury returns with full force. A low growl escapes from her throat. 

_ Snow _ . It’s the first one who comes to mind.

It must be. After all, she’s stolen from her before. Her mother’s heart. Snow has screwed her over, time and again. She can’t think of any other who would be dumb enough to try again.

But no, it can’t be, her common sense interferes. Snow would never empty her vault behind everyone’s back. She’s not capable of petty theft - well, not after her mother’s heart anyway but that left her as a blubbering mess. Hell, Snow had even come to her, begging Regina to kill her. So no, it’s not Snow.

But then, who? 

Another step forward while she gazes around. Her mind is still trying to process what just happened in the diner, can hardly cope with this additional violation. A couple of trinkets are lying on the floor, scattered. The table still stands firm in the middle of the room, too heavy to lift without magic. She steps away from it, towards the mirror that’s still hanging at the opposite side of the vault. It’s both a relief and a curse. The mirror has always been a part of her. Sometimes it felt like a friend, especially when it had the capability of talking back, but right now, it shows how outrage, shock, grief and rage are fighting for precedence. She looks at herself, sees a distraught, heartbroken, angry - no, raging woman. Whoever did this is going to suffer. Her eyes narrow as she takes another step forward. 

And then, she feels it before she fully comprehends what is happening. A magical “whoosh” rings in her ears and the air gets knocked out of her lungs momentarily when a bright light encircles her for a couple of seconds. She stumbles back with a sharp gasp, but an invisible boundary pushes her forward again. Forward’s not an option either, she realizes when she looks down. There’s a thin, white circle on the floor and because she was so focused on what wasn’t there, she’s completely missed what  _ was.  _

She’s trapped. Bound in a circle. Regina blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Who-

There’s an almost surprised laugh behind her. “Oh my God, I did it!” sounds an excited voice behind her.  She whirls around within the circle around her and blinks in surprise.

Tamara - who is looking overjoyed and holds a book in her hand. And behind her, coming from the secret room is Greg. How the hell did they know about her vault - and her hidden chambers? She blinks again, slowly, trying to compose herself. But Regina feels nauseous - the last time she saw him -  _ them  _ -, he had had her tied to a table and sent large amounts of electricity through her body - she involuntarily shivers at the memory. She breathes shallowly, concentrates on her in- and exhales, as he starts to speak.

“Welcome, Regina. We’d hoped you would stop by soon,” Greg says with a smug smile on his face, knowing all too well that she hasn’t expected any of it. “I wish I could offer you something to drink, but, you know.” He waves at the circle around Regina’s feet. 

The rage inside her is winning. “What the hell are you two doing here?” Regina barks, meanwhile testing the barrier. It’s a decent one, one completely by the books. By the book that Tamara is currently holding, she sees. She recognizes the cover. She narrows her eyes. Her mother’s book.  _ Her _ book. 

“Why, taking your stuff, of course,” Tamara says with an almost cheery voice, while Greg turns and vanishes in the secret rooms again. “After our last conversation, I realized that with you out of the way, it would be easy to take the valuables from your vault. We’ve found quite the trinkets. You wouldn’t believe what collectors are bidding already.” She smiles. Regina snarls at her, and at the same time, she tests the border again.

It’s decent. But barriers can be broken. The protection spell Tamara’s used is not as strong as it would be if she would’ve cast it herself. Besides, even though there is a barrier in place, Tamara has forgotten to cancel the magic within the circle. Regina figures that if she tries, she can break it fairly easily. Especially because the spell is cast by an inexperienced witch using dark magic.

And Regina’s an expert in dark magic. 

Her fingers itch to break both the barrier and Tamara’s scrawny little neck. But when Tamara starts speaking, she decides to wait. The girl feels sure enough of her own capabilities to boast about them, and the more Regina knows, the more she can use against them. She knows a thing or two about manipulation. After all, she’s learned from the best.

“We’ll be out of your hair soon,” Tamara smoothly says, radiating confidence. “Just a few more things and we’ll cross the town border.” She takes a few steps closer. “I have to say, Regina, I understand why you love magic so much. I mean, simply feeling how it flows through me is addictive, is it not? The way I dabbled with it in the outside world is nothing to what I can do here.” 

Regina sees how Tamara is genuinely excited and she doesn’t like it much, but she can relate. Yes. She knows how it feels. How exhilarating it can be. 

And how dangerous. Just the thought of what can happen if her supplies fall into the wrong hands makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Many of them are dangerous. A quick glance around shows that even the Agrabahn vipers have been taken. A shiver runs down her back. 

“You know,” Tamara continues, a sound of victory evident in her voice, “when I teamed up with Greg I could never have imagined that I would have the chance to study magic in the process. I’m sure if I’d have a decent teacher I could be even better, don’t you think?” She bounces up the balls of her feet and God, she looks so taken with herself. “I’d ask you, but, you know, I don’t think you’re really up for it after, well, we emptied your vault.” She laughs self-righteously.

Regina bites hard on the inside of her cheek and gives her a deadpan look. Let her talk. Apparently, Tamara loves talking about her achievements. It’s almost comically easy to get information out of her, the way she spills her guts out. Regina doesn't even have to say anything. It looks like the young woman really needs to share with someone else than the man she’s been cooped up with. 

“Greg doesn’t understand,” Tamara continues with a wave of her hand, confirming Regina's thoughts, “And I don’t blame him. You gave him quite the bad experience, growing up. But as soon as he sent me videos featuring you performing magic… the spell that threw Emma through the air, it was  _ so _ forceful. And he sent me a video showing how you pulled Mary Margaret’s heart out.” Tamara’s eyes are filled with excitement. “You’ve got to teach me because I haven't come across it in any of the books I’ve read so far.” 

“That would be a glorious waste of time,” Regina says slowly, folding her arms and quirking an eyebrow. Her palms are sweaty from controlling her anger and she digs her nails in her own arms, to control herself. She takes in Tamara from head to toes, raises an eyebrow in a mocking gesture. “Playing witch and being one are two very separate things, dear.”

Tamara’s radiating, self-congratulatory smirk slowly gives way to a frown. “Be that as it may,” she scowls, “Fact is that you’re still in there, and I’m out here.”

There’s a little uncertainty in her voice now which she tries to mask, but Regina’s an expert in sniffing out weaknesses. She smirks and decides to indulge them a little longer, folds her hands in front of her chest. It might be useful, knowing what they’re up to. The more she learns, the more she can use.

Because Greg and Tamara feel safe, thinking that Regina’s locked up. They’re bold. And it’s useful because much like the villains from every superhero movie she’s ever watched with Henry, they’re so proud of themselves that they’ll tell her everything about themselves and their plans. Thinking they’ve trapped the Evil Queen does wonders to their self-esteem. It’s pathetic. Her lip curls up. 

“You know that I’ll get out, eventually,” Regina smiles self-confidently, raising her chin and tilting her head a little bit. She sees how insecurity flashes over Tamara’s face.

“But not before we finish this,” Greg says. He’s entered the vault again, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his coats. “I want revenge for my father.”

“Oh, hush now, foolish boy,” Regina scolds him and narrows her eyes. “Believe me on this, revenge gets you nothing but trouble. I can vouch for that. Besides, what are you going to do? This circle holds me in, but it holds you out, as well.” She touches the barrier. “And if you lower the barrier, you’re done for.”

“I don’t need to go in there to avenge my father, Regina,” Greg assesses calmly. Regina glances heavenward in exasperation, her annoyance shining through in her features. But there’s something in his voice that unnerves her. As if he knows something that she doesn’t. 

“Then what are you going to do? Bore me to death?” she drawls.

“Oh no. No, I can do better than that,” Greg says with an easy smile around his lips. “Because I’ve realized something.”

She gives him a pointed look, doesn’t even dignify him with an answer. But he isn’t impressed. “Something’s different this time. The last time you were all alone. This time you’re not. You have... ties. And those ties can be painfully severed.” A shiver of disgust runs over Regina’s back.

“I found my father’s bones buried at the campsite. Just where you said they would be. You’ve taken everything from me. And now I’m going to take everything from you.”

Her mind flashes back to the diner, to Emma, vehemently speaking for her against her parents. Henry, asking her each morning how she’s doing. The memories are painful and now, mix with a flash of hot white panic. Ties. Ties, which she has severed right before she came here. Her heart throbs painfully at the memory. It was the right thing to do. She knows that because it makes her feel miserable. Villains don’t get a happy ending - she was a fool to believe it ever to be in her cards. Misery and heartbreak, that’s what she gets. A destiny of hopelessness and unhappy endings.

“Then you’re too late,” Regina says, voice calm. “My ties are severed. I don’t have anyone.”

“Hm,” Greg answers with a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t believe that.”

“Suit yourself,” Regina shrugs, turning away from him.

"How’s… Emma doing lately?” Tamara cuts in, and she smirks as Regina’s head snaps back to face her. She’s underestimated that one. But Regina recognizes the fire in her eyes. Tamara wants power. It’s like looking in a mirror. Looking at her mother’s eyes. Tamara longs for it, will not stop searching for it. And she’s just emptied a vault full of powerful items which she might not know how to use yet, but with the determination, she has shown here, Regina is sure that she will find out. 

Regina doesn’t dignify the young witch with an answer, at first. But then, Tamara turns to the mirror, murmurs something, and flicks her hand, which turns the mirror into a window into her house. She sees her shower, realizes the see-through mirror is her bathroom’s. Another wave of her hand and there’s the view from the mirror in the hallway. Her lip curls up in a snarl while she frantically thinks about where the other mirrors in her house are. The study. The bathrooms. Maybe the small pocket one in the living room. Then, tries to remember the conversations they had near any of them. Needs to know what they know. And she sends a silent thank-you to whoever is up there because there isn’t a mirror in the bedroom. 

She doesn’t know what Tamara has seen, but she remembers her breakdown under the shower. Emma’s support - the way she toweled Regina off, gently dressing her after her violent nightmare about her mother. Had the two of them been watching? A white-hot rage settles in the pit of her stomach. The thought alone makes her feel sick to her stomach.

But Tamara’s next words make her freeze on the spot.

“Got any nightmare’s lately?” Tamara hums smoothly, then chuckles. “It was pretty easy after I got the hex right. I know why you like this stuff, Regina. It feels so good to mess with other people without them knowing, is it not? So funny, too. I can’t believe you didn’t suspect anything,” she grins with pride. A cold hand wraps around Regina’s heart.

Once, Cora told her that the quickest way to get someone to their knees was to deprive them of sleep. The nastiest way to do that was to amplify their fears and their regrets. Because if you wake up from bad dreams every night, you become too afraid to sleep. Basically, you don’t have to do a  _ thing _ because people will do it to themselves. And after enough sleep deprivation, people would start to hallucinate, emotions would run wild, and were even easier to manipulate to do Cora’s bidding, especially if she would offer them a cure. It doesn’t surprise Regina that she has written the spell into the book Tamara’s holding. 

It  _ does _ surprise her that Tamara has found it and has gotten it to work because it is not an easy spell. 

And Regina feels sick. Angry. Violated. Abused. Mad at herself for not even thinking about the nightmare having a magical origin. She feels Tamara’s eyes on her. The smugness radiates off of her in waves and Regina wants to forcefully remove it from her face. It takes every ounce of her willpower to not break out of this shitty little protection spell and eviscerate Tamara right on the spot.

“I am going to end you for this,” she hisses, black spots of anger covering her peripheral vision, but Tamara seems unimpressed and full of herself. Regina has underestimated this one, but she won’t do it again.

“How?” Tamara snorts. She has a newfound self-confidence now she’s managed to throw Regina completely off guard. “You’re in there. I’m here,” she smirks.

"And I’m out,” Greg smoothly interrupts their conversation. He’s been watching their back-and-forth amusedly, but now, he also has something to say, apparently. Regina sneers at him, but he just watches her, unimpressed. “I guess Emma’s around the station right now. Little Henry’s probably in school.” 

“So what if they are?” Regina snarls. Greg smirks. 

“I’m not so fond of magic and all. You probably understand why.” He reaches for something behind his back and her eyes narrow when she recognizes what he’s revealing. “I’ll just keep it plain and simple.”

A gun. Her chest contracts violently and her insides freeze, but she can’t let him know any of that. So she raises her gaze to meet his, quirks one of her eyebrows in a mocking display.

“Well, well,” she taunts him, “look at little Owen, becoming a vindictive mastermind.” Her mouth twists in a downturned sneer. “Put that thing away before you hurt yourself.” 

He raises his arm, points the gun at her and she forces herself not to flinch. To keep the same expression on her face, to hold his gaze. Because she knows what he has implicated, but she needs to hear him say it. She needs to hear his plan. 

Greg is right. She has ties. Maybe not the ones she would like to have, but she cares for people. People care about her. And it complicates matters intensely.

_ Love is weakness.  _ Her mother’s voice is pounding in her head.

_ They _ are her weakness.

She remembers how she had felt in her later days of being the Evil Queen. Not caring about whether she lived or died. Because in the end, there had been nobody to live for. 

She doesn’t feel like that anymore, she thinks when she lazily lets her gaze trail over his arm, before her eyes flick back to his face. She wants to live. Even if she can’t be a part of the lives of the people she cares about, she doesn’t want her life to end. Maybe that makes her a little masochistic, but even that doesn’t surprise her much anymore.

“You do remember the magical barrier your little witch-friend has put up, right?” she drawls. Nothing comes in or out.” Or so she hopes. Because she doesn’t know if Tamara has another trick on her sleeve. “And you know that once this barrier’s gone, I’ll be much quicker than the both of you combined.”

“Oh, but I’m not going to kill you. I want you to feel the same I did.” He looks from the gun to Regina and smiles, almost serenely. “I just want you to feel all alone in the world. I want you to know that because of you, your loved ones are dead.”

She snorts, but she unfolds her arms as a surge of fear and panic flashes through her body.

“Because I’m going to kill Emma and Henry.” 

It is then that Regina realizes that Greg is a lot like she once was. She suppresses a shiver as she gazes into those maniacal eyes, recognizing the vengeful frenzy she knows so well. And a flash of her conversation with Archie enters her mind. Her revelation that death was too merciful a revenge. How an endless life with nothingness was imminently worse than a quick death. She sharply inhales. 

He’s going to shoot them. Fear settles in the pit of her stomach and she raises her arms to the barrier. She needs to stop him as soon as she can. “But don’t worry,” he continues, “I’m not heartless. It’ll be quick. They aren’t the ones who have to suffer. You are.”

And with that, he turns and quickly runs upstairs.

"No!" she cries out in panic. She can’t let that happen. She raises her hands, anxiety raging inside as she calls on her magic. Finds her fears, rage, her loathing, and _uses_ them. Finds her deepest, darkest moments and calls upon them, wants their destruction, draws the magic from within until it surges through her veins, hums under her skin. She momentarily crosses her hands in front of her chest until the dark purple magic sparks at her fingertips, until a purple haze clouds her vision and she stretches her arms, presses her fingers at the barrier - and growls when she shatters it to pieces.

Tamara yelps in surprise. She is quick to turn and wants to flee from the action, but with one flick of her wrist, Regina sends her flying against the mirror against the door leading to her hidden chambers. The mirror shatters, but before Tamara hits the floor, Regina lifts her again. She stretches her arm, fingers curling and Tamara gurgles, claws at her own throat. Regina curls her fingers, squeezes. She needs her out of the way before she goes after Greg.

And then they hear gunshots and Regina’s blood freezes. For a split second, she falters. Her knees buckle and her hands shake. There’s only one reason for gunshots in this town at this very moment, and that is because Emma came to look for her here. A sob escapes her throat. 

And then, her gaze darkens. Agony, shock, fear, guilt, dread, grief - it mixes in her chest, builds up. She breathes quickly while panic settles in her stomach. It’s her fault. She should have stopped him earlier, but she wanted the information -- for what? She hadn’t needed it to end both of them, was it some morbid fascination? 

She doesn’t know what has taken place up there and she wants to go and find out, but here is Tamara, too. Tamara, who has violated her privacy. Who thought it was a good idea to curse the Evil Queen. Who thought she could get away with it. She narrows her eyes. Tamara, who she’s still holding in a deadly grip. She slowly turns to face her, narrowing her eyes, magic swirling around them both. Consuming them both. Tamara’s eyes are wide, panicked. Hands helplessly clawing at her own throat, trying to loosen the invisible hold Regina has on her.

It’s as if someone flips a switch inside her. 

Oh, yes.

Tamara is going to  _ pay _ . 

Darkness claws up from the blackest corners of her soul, up, up,  _ up _ . The magic sings below her skin, sparks at her fingertips, whispers in her head as it replaces the sorrow. She needs to  _ hurt _ someone and Tamara is the perfect victim. Let her suffer the way she had made Regina suffer - and worse. 

“Did you think that by playing with magic you belonged to the big league, little girl?” Regina whispers at the girl while tightening the chokehold. She narrows her eyes, stares at Tamara, curls her fingers even more. It extracts a guttural sound from the wannabe witch, who’s feet dangle just above the floor. “Didn’t you know that all magic comes with a price?” Her face cracks open in a vicious smile. “Because it always does, and you can’t predict what your price is going to be. But I… I know the price of your magic, dear.”

There’s a tiny whimper coming from Tamara, whose eyes are starting to bulge, and Regina cackles. “Yes, you guessed right,” she murmurs, “I’m your price.” And then her face is void of all emotion within the blink of an eye as she strides closer. “You messed with the wrong queen,” she sing-songs to her victim. “Because you might’ve heard stories, but you really have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

Tamara gurgles, has a petrified look in her wide eyes as Regina walks around her like a predator, waiting to strike. She lifts her free hand when she’s standing behind her. Runs it through her dark hair before she balls her hand into a fist and yanks Tamara’s head back. The agonized sounds are music to Regina’s ears. 

“Have you ever seen someone run for their lives, dear?” Regina purrs darkly, slowly tightening the grip on the black hair, her other hand slithering over Tamara’s throat, caressing it almost gently. “Have you ever seen the fear in their eyes, the haunted look, the moment they realize they are going to die? The way their lives flash before their eyes -- did you know that if you look closely, you can almost see their memories, their regrets of things they are not going to be able to do because their time is running short?” 

Tamara gasps and Regina’s mouth twists in a smile of satisfaction. She brings her lips close to Tamara’s ears and she feels how the other woman’s body convulses with fear. “I do. I have. And do you know why?” she whispers, extracting a whimper from the woman she holds firmly pressed against her own body. 

“Because they ran from  _ me.”  _ She chuckles when she sees the terror in Tamara’s eyes, revels in the fearful sound coming from her throat, and curls the fingers around the younger woman’s throat until-

_ “ _ Regina,  _ wait!” _

_ God damnit. _

Regina snarls at the vault’s entrance with bared teeth when Emma barges in. But there’s imminent relief as well. Emma didn’t die. Greg didn’t succeed. But the burning revenge that sings in her blood isn’t quelled so easily. It’s been a part of her for too long, it’s too familiar to ease into. To give in to. Torturing the Evil Queen cannot go unpunished.

“Listen to me. Greg ambushed me and David. He got away. David’s after him.”

“Leave, Swan. This one’s mine,” she growls darkly, teeth bared.

“You can’t, Regina! This isn’t you.” Emma’s eyes flick through the empty vault, another realization dawning, before here gaze lands on Regina, who’s still standing behind Tamara, hand curled around her neck. Tamara whimpers. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, her gaze desperately turned to the savior and silently pleading for help.

“Oh, but you’ll find yourself mistaken, dear. This is  _ exactly _ who I am.” She loosens the grip around Tamara’s throat somewhat, allowing her to breathe a little. “This is who I’ve turned into. No mercy, right?” She narrows her eyes. “She stole from me, violated my privacy, played with my head, threatened my family. She threatened  _ Henry. _ And I’m tired of people running over me, telling me who I am and what I should or shouldn’t do. This one, she’s toyed with me one time too many.”

Her eyes are swirling with purple. “And she’s going to pay. Now, tell me, darling,” she growls, turning her head back to Tamara, who’s unable to speak because of the pressure on her throat. She is crying, terrified, just how Regina likes it. “Do you know what I did to people who tried to steal from me? Those who were foolish enough to threaten me, or even more stupid, tried to put me under a spell?”

“I don’t care about  _ her _ . I care about you,” Emma cuts in. “Regina, Henry will be safe. Red is picking him up from school and you  _ know  _ she won’t let anyone get near him.” 

It’s not the words that make Regina hesitate. It’s the tone of Emma’s voice. There’s despair, but there’s also frustrated anger that Regina hasn’t heard before.

“You’ve worked so hard these last couple of weeks. Damn it, Regina, you’ve come so far. She is not worth ruining all your progress for. You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed _. _ She’s  _ not  _ worth relapsing over. _ ”  _ She gestures wildly towards Tamara.

_ “I’m incapable of change.”  _ Snow’s words roll easily off Regina’s tongue and leave a bitter taste. 

Emma scoffs. “Jesus, Regina. I didn’t pick you for a person to believe every word my mother says. I sure as hell don’t. And I surely didn’t think you’d be a sore-ass loser. Stop being a fucking coward.”

“What?” Regina snarls, outraged about that particular accusation and even more because  _ Emma  _ is the one who bit out the words, and she meets Emma’s eyes, furious.

But Emma’s eyes are raging fire pits as well as she shoots back, “This, what you’re doing… It’s the easy way out and you know it. You’re falling right back into your old routines because that’s what you know, that’s what everyone  _ expects you to do _ . But it’s the fucking cowardly way out, Regina. Your self-loathing will only make it easier to return to your old ways because it hurts less than to forgive yourself and heal. You have to stand up and  _ fight _ ,” Emma barks at her, stepping forward.

Regina’s gaze falters and she draws in a shaky breath. “Fight for Henry,” Emma barks at her, “Fight for your family, instead of accepting a fate that should never have been yours, to begin with. If you  _ really  _ want to change, if you really want to be a better person, then become one.” Her eyes are ablaze with anger and frustration. “Don’t sink back to  _ their  _ level. Make a fucking choice.” 

“I made my choice,” Regina roars. 

“You chose to run. That makes you a coward, and it’s hardly a choice,” Emma retorts angrily. “Believe me, I  _ know. _ ”

“I chose so you didn’t have to,” Regina cries out, her chest squeezing painfully. “Because I took you from your family once, and I am not going to do that again.”

Her voice echoes in the empty space and she sees how realization flashes over Emma’s face, as she takes in the words. Emma blinks a few times before outrage settles on her features.  “Jesus fucking Christ, Regina,” Emma snaps, “Was _that_ what that was back there in the diner? You making a choice  _ for _ me instead of including me in that decision? Next time, leave the decisions about my life to  _ me! _ ”

Enough of this. Regina roughly shoves Tamara aside. With a cry and a loud thud, she hits the wall and falls to the floor, unconscious. Regina ignores it, completely focused on the woman in front of her. With large steps, she closes the distance between herself and Emma. “Why? Why are you so invested in my-- my well-being, Swan?” There’s exasperation in her voice which seems to annoy Emma meticulously.

“Because  _ someone  _ has to if  _ you are not _ .” Boldly, Emma raises her hands and grabs Regina’s upper arms, much as she did in the diner. “Because no matter what you say, you deserve happiness. And if you’re not invested in it, if you don’t believe you deserve it, then I sure as hell will, so fiercely, until it rubs off on you,” she snaps. Her fingers painfully dig in Regina’s arms.

Regina wants to shake her head, pull free of Emma’s grip, but Emma’s hold is tight. “How  _ hopeful of you _ ,” she sneers, feeling trapped, cornered once more - it instinctively makes her lash out. “It must be in your Charming  _ genes _ .” The blonde forces her to look into her eyes and she can’t look away. She sees the flash of hurt, but also the conviction in those stormy, green pools, she sees how Emma believes in her own words. _I believe in you_ and Regina nearly howls in frustrations. 

Because having her hope shredded  _ again _ , and with everything that happened after with Greg and Tamara, Regina just can’t take any more of this. The rage, the betrayal, and the frustration are pumping in her veins. She fights, she cares, she breaks, a vicious circle. It leaves her self-control is in shambles, and the added embarrassment for Emma to see her like this is amplified tenfold - not only is she punishing Tamara, she’s also holding herself violently accountable. “You’d do best to stay the hell away from me,” Regina snarls, throwing her arm out behind her, pointing at the woman behind her, who has just started to stir. “She’s going to pay for what she did to me. And you can’t stop me.”

She lifts her hand, and Tamara is up in the air once more and turns to face the inexperienced witch, whose eyes widen in realization and horror once more. 

“You’re right. I can’t.” 

Emma’s voice is strong but softer than before, and damnit, it does something to Regina’s insides. She sends a blazing gaze over her shoulder into the blonde’s direction to see what she means by that. But Emma just looks at her, arms down, hanging next to her body in defeat.

“I can’t stop you,” Emma repeats, exasperated. “Go ahead. Do it. If you think killing Tamara holds all the answers, then please, go ahead. But I'm not leaving you.”

It’s a trick - it must be. She knows it is. It’s what worked with Henry when he was a toddler, she remembers. Allow them to do the complete opposite from what you want and they will halt in surprise. Sometimes they don’t even want to do it anymore. And fuck, it’s working.

“And you’re going to let me?” she snorts in disbelief, aggravated.

“Do it, Regina.” Emma sounds a little tired now. “Get it over with. Maybe my parents will even get you a get-out-of-jail card because it’s Tamara. Who, you know, wanted to eviscerate the entire town anyway.”

And Regina, much to her own added frustration, hesitates. She goes over Emma’s passionate speech in her mind as she looks at her emptied vault. “She deserves it.”

"Maybe.” Emma runs a frustrated, tired hand through her unruly curls and meets her gaze.

“She’s tried to kill me.” Even to Regina's ears she's trying to find reasons to continue. 

“Huh,” Emma says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Doesn’t that remind you of someone?” She raises an eyebrow. Wretched, wretched woman. She's almost _laughing at her._ Regina sees how the little wrinkles in the corners of Emma's eyes start to show and she scoffs as she feels how the fight is leaving her. 

And then there is a sudden flash of movement when Tamara’s arm lifts, her fingers curl, and a flash of hot dark green magic erupts from her hands. But Regina’s instincts are quick and so are Emma’s, who’s raised her hands the same time as Regina does. Emma’s magic is untrained but strong, Regina sees in surprise, as a white burst springs instinctively from the palms of her hands. Regina lifts her hand, sending Tamara crashing into the wall and keeping her up there.

She let her guard down.

_ Love is weakness. _

Why the hell are they still even discussing this? She’ll end this. “You’re a fool, little girl,” she growls at Tamara whose final stupid act of bravery has sealed the deal. Tamara’s additional attempt to hurt either her or Emma is enough to throw away all her carefulness and finish this off, once and for all. “You wanted me to teach you? Well. Watch and learn.” And with that, her hand plunges into Tamara’s chest. Tamara cries out in pain and Regina hears how Emma calls her name, but she curls her fingers around the organ and yanks out Tamara’s heart more violently than necessary. 

With her left hand still up, still pinning Tamara to the wall, she looks at the bright red heart, streaked with black, in the palm of her hand. Her fingers dig into it tightly.  _ Crush it, crush it,  _ hums de darkness inside her. So, so tempting. She softly squeezes it, to try it out and it leaves Tamara gasping for air, whimpering. It feels good, to make her suffer. Let her feel pain. Let her realize that it is all going to end here - much as how Regina had thought she was going to die, strapped to a table while electricity ran through her body. 

Regina narrows her eyes, smirks. She feels like a cat playing with her prey, right before she finishes it off. Her eyes are glued to the pulsing organ in her hand. So powerful, and so fragile at the same time.

And then, she starts to tighten her grip - her fingers dig in, the darkness within her pulses, cheers, pounds in her head, and she revels in the painful noises coming from the woman, still pinned against the wall as she squeezes,  _ squeezes until _ -

“Emma!”

No! 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Regina growls in frustration, head snapping up, as the distressed voice of Emma’s father announces his arrival. “What the hell is this? Did someone install a goddamn revolving door into my vault in my absence?”

David comes into view. “I’ve lost him,” David says as he skids around the corner, taking in the situation - Tamara pinned to the wall, Emma with her hands raised, and Regina in the middle with one hand raised to keep Tamara frozen, the other hand curling tightly around a pulsing heart. His eyes widen - of course, they are, and she sneers at him.

“Honestly, the incompetence of the sheriff’s office makes me wonder why it was so hard for me to eviscerate you in the first place,” Regina snarls at them both. But whatever it was she was in, she has snapped out of it. Blinks at the heart in her hand as if she’s looking at it with new eyes, with a new realization.

Because  _ God,  _ somewhere inside that very darkness that just took over was something that withheld her from crushing the heart all the way - even if David hadn’t interrupted. Squeezing a heart never took her any longer than a few seconds, and yet this time, it had. 

She doesn’t take long to think about it, because another thought enters her mind. If Greg got away, there’s only one place he’s going to go to. Especially when he knows that Emma is here. Nervous energy settles in her stomach.

_ Henry. _

“Out of my way,” she bellows as she pushes through the two of them, lowering her hand which makes Tamara drop to the floor, coughing violently, heaving in oxygen. 

Regina stalks towards the wall that once contained so many hearts and picks up one of the boxes that were carelessly thrown on the floor. She puts the heart in, whirls around and strides back to a stupefied David and a somewhat surprised, yet hopeful Emma. She shoves the box against David’s chest. “Control her until you get that magical bracelet around her wrist, shepherd,” she barks. “And bring her to Nurse Ratched. She’ll know what to do with her.”

Then, she whirls around to Emma. “We have to go.” She forcefully grabs Emma’s arm and transports them out of the vault, towards Storybrooke’s primary school.

“Regina,” Emma starts as they materialize, but Regina shoves her away before the wisps of purple have fully dissipated. 

“No. Don’t. First, we catch him before he gets to Henry,” she snaps, and then, she freezes as she sees people shouting, children running for their lives, screaming. Within seconds, the schoolground seems to empty and they have too little time to catch up to what's happening.

“Well, I guess you’re a little late for that,” she hears a familiar voice behind her, and they both whirl around. 

Greg has Henry pressed against his own body as a living shield, a gun placed at his temple. “Mom,” Henry shrieks, tears on his face as he tries to struggle out of Greg’s grip. 

"Henry!" she says, breathing in sharply and she lunges forward but Henry whines as Greg tightens his grip, the gun digging in Henry’s skin and he stills his movements -- as does she, because she cannot risk Greg pulling that trigger. And all Regina can see is the blood spatter on her precious boy’s face and she chokes on her own breath as panic and adrenaline pump through her body. She feels sick, tries to see if he's bleeding from somewhere but he continues, too brave for his own good, “Mom! He shot Ruby!” he cries.

Instinctively, Regina turns her eyes to check for Ruby and she finds her, leaning against one of the abandoned cars, hand clutched against her shoulder and blood seeping through. "I'll be fine," Ruby snarls, baring her teeth at the man who shot her, "Concentrate on him!" She tries to get up, but Regina's eyes fly back to her son. Her beautiful boy, so afraid and yet so strong. 

"Let him go!" Regina says, eyes finding Greg's again, both panic and a threat in her voice, but Greg doesn't do anything but lift a corner of his mouth. 

"No."

"He's a child," Emma roars, the same panic as Regina feels on her face. 

"So was I, all those years ago. Sorry, kiddo. It’s nothing personal." There's a flash of grief, of deep loss on his face before it twists into something far more frightening - a blank, unreadable mask.

"No!" both Regina and Emma cry out as they see how his finger curls around the trigger, and Henry whimpers. Regina weighs her options, thinks if she can be quicker than Greg's trigger finger but he knows, he sees what she wants, and he tuts, shakes his head lightly. "Even if you  _ are  _ faster than I am, my finger will most likely spasm into a squeeze and it'll send a bullet through his brain."

Regina swallows, eyes flashing to Emma, who looks as desperate as she does. There's nothing they can do.

"Shoot me, then. Finish it, once and for all," Regina then says, voice shaking, but with a raised chin. If her sacrifice will let Henry live, then so be it. He has a life in front of him, with a family that cares, and she - she knows happy endings have never been in her card. Villains don't get to live the fairy tale, after all. She takes a step forward, away from Emma. Spreads her arms while her breathing accelerates, anticipates on what's coming. "Do it."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Greg drawls, eyebrows raised. "The whole point is to let you suffer. Not give you the easy way out."

She knows, she realized so before, back in the vault, that he is a lot like she once was, but she needs to try. For Henry. "I know-"

"Then take me," Emma cuts in, brow knitted, eyes wide. She steps forward, hands raised, tears in her eyes, and the same desperate panic that Regina’s feeling. Regina's breath chokes.  _ Love is weakness _ . She can't let her do this. If only she hadn’t let it come this far. If only Emma would have taken Henry, if only she wouldn’t have stayed in the mansion; if only Regina had crossed the town’s border, to leave everything and anyone behind. She feels desperate sobs rising through her throat but sheer willpower suppresses them.

"Emma-" 

"Better me than him," she says, eyes red-rimmed, a glance of acceptance on her face. Regina shakes her head. But Greg chuckles. "Why do you think I'd choose? I can have you both, to maximize Regina's suffering."

Regina is shaking. All of this is her fault. "I know a thing or two about revenge, Greg," she says, voice wavering, "And as an expert, I can tell you that it won't give you what you want."

"Ah. And what do you think it is that I want?"

"You want peace of mind. You want the hurting to end. You want to... move on with your life. But let me tell you," she continues, voice nearly breaking, "You can't. It won't fix anything. You'll be left with nothing but a gaping hole in your heart, dissatisfied, and with no purpose. You'll end up with _nothing._ "

“Oh, but I do know the hurting will end, sweetheart,” he tells her, unimpressed with her emotional display. “Do you for a moment think that after they’re gone, I’m going to live?” He tuts, shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Regina’s eyes sting as despair washes over her - her eyes fly to Henry, who is so pale, stands so still. Greg is desperate enough to take his own life or let any of the others take his after he pulls the trigger. Her breathing goes so fast, so ragged now as if her mind is starting to accept the inevitable but she can't, she can't give up, not while he is still holding the gun against Henry's head. Henry, who whimpers softly, tears on his cheek. Her hands are clammy with sweat and she wipes them on her pants. “You can,” she chokes out, seeing a movement in her peripheral vision. "If I can stop, so can you."

“No, I won’t.” There’s a hint of finality in his voice. Regina’s breath stutters as her heart sinks through the floor. He has nothing to live for. He has become his revenge, much in the way she once became hers. He's willing to kill, willing to die. He's blind in his world, has no feelings whatsoever over killing a child. And god, if she has to beg for Henry’s life, she will and she opens her mouth, but his gaze hardens and he says, “Now, as much as I enjoy this little chat, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

And then, everything seems to slow down and take place in slow motion. Greg tightens his grip around the trigger, Emma cries out, “No!” and she lunges forward and it makes Greg raise his gun in her direction instead, while still holding on to Henry, who takes the chance to yank out of his grip and Regina lifts her hands to shove Emma out of the bullets' trajectory. _Love is weakness,_ cries her mother's voice inside her head and the sound is deafening.

There’s one gunshot. _Thump._ A cry, high-pitched, but it's not clear who it belongs to. 

Another shot. _Thump._ A flurry of red and fur launches itself in Greg’s direction.

And another _. Thump._

And then, there’s nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm, um... sorry?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought there was one more chapter to go but because it's starting to become too long, I'm splitting it in two. Consider this part 1 of the season's finale ;)

She’s aware of a soft, steady beeping. And hot, she’s so hot. Arms are wrapped around her. She’s enveloped in a hug. A warm body is pressed against hers, a nose tickles her neck. Automatically, her lips twist in a smile and she sighs softly, whimpers a protest as the person withdraws. 

“We have got to stop meeting in this place,” a familiar voice whispers in her ear. She wants to ask why, where, but her throat is dry and she licks her chapped lips. Her eyes are heavy, they don’t really want to open and she’s fine with that because it’s nice in here. She sighs lightly, turns towards her but can’t because something is holding back her hand. And it stings. It _hurts._

And then, memories violently invade her mind -- everything comes back to her and her eyes snap open wide. “ _Henry_!” she cries out, flinging herself upright while knocking someone off the narrow bed she’s lying on. 

“Ouch! Jesus, _fuck_ ,” Emma whines from the floor. Regina’s eyes shoot towards her as the blonde rubs her jaw, then her hands fly to her own chest, and find a bluish-green hospital gown. She remembers the searing pain as the bullets entered her torso - two in her ribcage, one in her lower belly and she gasps, pulls up the hospital gown, eyes frantically searching for the damage, and sees three tiny scars. 

She’s confused and panicking as the memories pound in her head, sees Greg pointing the gun at Emma and her hands still, while jerking her head towards Emma and then Emma is next to her, grabs her shirt and yanks it down, and Regina realizes that in order to check, she has just flashed her naked body to the room. Fortunately, Emma was the only one present, but the realization makes her face flush. But there are more pressing matters to worry about. She sees a hospital room, a beeping monitor, a needle in her hand - an IV - connected to something next to her bed. Her fingers start to pluck on the tape that’s holding the needle in place. “Henry!” she shrieks again, the image of her son in Greg’s hands sharp on her mind. 

“Henry is fine,” Emma says, grabbing Regina’s hands to stop her from removing the IV. “He’s in school.”

“Greg-”  
  
“He’s dead.”

“Ruby was shot,” she chokes out.

“She’ll live.”

“How long was I-”

“Six days.”

The waterfall of words stops. “Six days?” she shrieks, pulling her hand loose from Emma’s grip, reaching under her hospital gown, examining the scars with a brush of her fingertips. “But how-”  
  
“I, um, healed you.” 

Regina’s frantic gaze locks with Emma’s as her hands still. Emma smiles a little flustered, then shrugs. “You were dying and I don’t know how exactly, but I did.”

There’s so much to say, so much to talk about, but everything inside Regina quiets down. 

“Henry’s fine?” she asks again, voice calmer now.

“He is. He’s been seeing Archie for what’s happened. Archie wishes you well, by the way.”

Regina nods absentmindedly, blinks rapidly. “Six days?” Her voice is wavering, small.

“Yeah,” Emma replies, taking Regina’s hand. “I guess I healed your body, but Archie said that sometimes, a mind shuts down to heal on its own. I mean, you had a really, really, _really_ shitty day.”

That’s the understatement of the century. Regina’s eyes are burning and she feels how her body starts to shake violently. She chokes out a sob, still so overwhelmed by the memories. But even before the first tear starts to roll over her cheeks, Emma is with her, envelops her in a tight hug, surrounds her. And she can’t stop - Regina is still exhausted and cries and cries and cries over what she has lost, what had nearly happened, for herself and she buries her face in Emma’s shoulders, who softly strokes her hair, whispers words in her ears and presses soft kisses on her head. She vaguely feels how Emma gently lays down with her, next to her, pulls her even closer, and Regina feels safe, so safe. “I’m s-sorry,” she hiccups as she finally regains _some_ voice. 

“Why?” Emma whispers in her hair and the question is so simple, so pure, that it itches Regina’s nose and more tears spill from her eyes. 

“You nearly died. _Henry_ nearly died. Be-because of me.”

Emma’s grip tightens. “The only one who nearly died was you,” she murmurs in Regina’s hair and there’s a tremble in her voice that Regina can’t place. Doesn’t want to place. “If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, he’d have shot me. You saved me, Regina. And then I saved you.”  
  
Regina’s breath hitches. “Th-that’s a lot of sa-saving,” she chokes out. Her eyes are thick, puffy, they burn and it’s hard to keep them open, but she forces herself to meet Emma’s gaze. 

"It was.” Emma gently presses her lips on Regina’s forehead and her eyes flutter close. “Go get some rest. If you want to, I’ll wake you when Henry gets here.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Regina murmurs, but her hands are still firmly digging into Emma’s hip to keep her close. 

“Do you want me to?”

Regina sighs. “Yes.” Because she is weak, always weak for Emma Swan. And as always, she’ll get what she can before it ends. It always ends.

“Then I will.”

The confirmation relaxes Regina’s fingers and she slowly drifts away again.

~*~

“Mom?”

Her eyes flutter open and stare right into warm, brown, worried ones. He yelps and lunges forward and she automatically wraps her arms firmly around him. She didn’t think she’d have any more tears to spill but apparently, she does. The image of Henry in Greg’s arms is a vivid one - worse than her worst nightmares, and holding him close is the one thing that proves that he is, in fact, all right. “I missed you, mom,” Henry says with a muffled voice, and he’s shaking - crying, too. 

Emma’s watching them, hands firmly tucked in the back pockets of her jeans, a small smile surrounding her lips. Her eyes are shining, Regina sees when she finally looks up and she lifts one arm, motions her closer. Emma doesn’t need much conviction and she moves around the bed, sits on the other side of Emma, and runs her fingers soothingly through Henry’s hair as Regina’s hand restlessly pulls her close. This, the three of them together, it’s perfect. This is what she wants to remember, what she wants to savor. Because she knows it won’t last - it never does - but now they’re here, and they are safe and for a moment, Regina can pretend that they are a family.

A knock on the doorpost and a scrape of a throat prove her point. Regina reluctantly allows Henry to slide away from the bed as Whale comes inside. “Heard you were in the land of the living again,” he says, face blank. He doesn’t like her. The feeling is mutual. It’s the man who first promised her to revive Daniel, and lied. Then he did, not so very long ago, without her knowing and well, everyone knew how that had ended.

He takes her card and looks at it as she narrows her eyes - they still sting from crying and she knows she looks awful, but it’s the best she can do considering the circumstances. “When can I go home?”

“Well, considering the circumstances and the fact that you just woke up-”

“Circumstances be damned. Is there anything else you need to do that can’t be done elsewhere?” she interjects sharply.

He narrows his eyes at her. “No. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with you. You just need rest, I guess.”

“All right. Then I’m going home. Thank you, _doctor,_ ” she sneers. She feels a soft squeeze in her hand as he huffs and turns to leave the room. She looks at her hand, the one Emma is holding, and sees the IV. Immediately, she starts to pluck at the tape.

“Maybe you shouldn’t-” But before Emma’s finished, Regina has yanked out the needle and hisses as a drop of blood wells up.

“Mom, you can’t just-”  
  
“Yes, I can. You heard him. I don’t want to stay here. I’ve spent too much time in goddamn hospitals as it is already.” She swings her legs over the bed but when she slides out, her knees buckle and if it weren’t for Emma, she would have fallen. 

“Mom!” There’s a scolding tone in Henry’s voice - an exact copy of her own. 

“Easy, tiger,” Emma murmurs. “One step at the time, all right? Back to bed.”

But Regina is restless - she doesn’t know where it’s coming from but something painful is tugging in her chest. Her head is clearer now than it was before. Her thoughts are in order again, not as overwhelming as they were before. And she remembers the conversation in the diner, the one after when Regina nearly killed Tamara, and… Well, after they didn’t talk at all. And no matter what has happened, Regina still stands by her decision. She’s not going to let Emma choose between herself and her family. No matter how much it hurts.

“I need to go,” she murmurs, a hint of defeat in her voice. 

Emma’s movements still. “You mean, _we_ need to go. I mean, how’s your magic doing? Can’t you just poof us to your house?”

Regina frowns. Raises her eyes to meet Emma’s.

“‘Poof?’” she asks with a little huff.

“Yeah, poof. You know, purple clouds move us to somewhere, poof.”

“Eloquent as always,” Regina mutters. “It’s called a transportation spell. Or a teleportation spell. Not poof.”  
  
“I like poofing,” Henry grins and Regina rolls her eyes. Traitor. 

“Yes,” she then says. “I think I can _teleport_ us to the mansion,” she adds with a pointed gaze. “If you want to come.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Emma smiles, but there’s a mild warning in her eyes. 

They need to talk, in private. But now is not the time. Regina lowers her gaze, grabs both Emma and Henry by their wrists, and teleports - she refuses to acknowledge it as ‘poof’ because she’s a queen and a bit more refined - them to the mansion.

~*~

Henry and Emma install her on the couch in the study and there’s a whole lot of memories that this couch harbors, but neither Emma nor Regina comment on it. Emma and her son refused to let her do anything because she needs her rest and she grumbles that she’s just tired, not an invalid. They ignore her. Bring her a book instead. But she can’t read. 

Her mind is working overtime. She goes over every tiny little thing that happened that day. Analyzes it to pieces. And it wears her out, which forces her to take short naps in between. In the end, she wakes up to the smell of take-out. She blinks, turns her head to meet Emma’s eyes who shrugs, unapologetically. “Ruby says hi,” Emma says softly. 

Henry drops next to her on the couch, while Emma takes the seat next to it. And while her son starts to wolf down his fries and burger, much in the same fashion as Emma can, she just moves them around at her plate. She isn’t hungry. 

“I ordered a salad too if you prefer,” Emma says, but Regina shakes her head. Suddenly, she feels overwhelmed again. She needs distance, and she needs closeness at the same time. And she needs to talk because every time she goes over what happened that fateful day, more questions arise.

“Mom?” Henry then asks, a little tentative, after he’s finished his burger. Regina turns her head to meet his eyes. “Just before you came, Greg said you’d killed his dad. Is that true?”

Regina swallows thickly. She remembers them standing at the town’s border. Owen running over the line, his father pulling loose from Graham’s grip. The way she lunged forward as he was running towards his son, crashing her shoulder into his side. His loss of balance. The sickening sound of a skull cracking. Her nostrils flare. She wants to say that it wasn’t intentional, that she didn’t mean to, but it doesn’t change the facts. “Yes,” she quietly says, eyes turned to the floor. “I… wanted to stop him, so I pushed him. He fell and hit his head. Badly.”

“So you didn’t mean to.” There’s a frown on his forehead. And Regina sighs. She knows that he’s trying to find ways to deal with the fact that his mom killed people, trying to reconcile what’s happened with his black and white world view, but Regina can’t let that happen. She needs him to understand that even though sometimes you don’t mean to, it doesn’t make it right because of who you are. Because of which side you are on.

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t make it less bad, Henry. He still died,” she answers. “Once upon a time, I didn’t care if I killed people. I was at war, with Snow and David, and in a war, people get hurt. People die, on both sides. Back then, their lives meant nothing to me. Winning did. And it took me a very long time to remember that it isn’t the way to… to move forward.” She leans back, puts the food away. A nauseous feeling lingers in her stomach. “But even though I realized that later, even though I know now that _that_ ’s not the way, still a lot of people are dead because of me. A lot of relatives and friends of those who died are still sad, hurt, angry. That won’t change overnight. And it shouldn’t.”

Henry’s brow furrows even further. “Do you think this will happen again, then?” he says, and she reaches to grab his greasy, salty hand. She doesn’t care. 

“I really hope it won’t, sweetheart.”

“I don’t believe it will,” Emma cuts in. “Greg came from the outside world. Nobody here is ever going to deliberately hurt you because you are Regina’s son, Henry. The people here, they know you. Greg didn’t.” And there’s a flash of something dangerous in her eyes. “And if anyone touches you because of your mom, they’ll have me to deal with.”

Regina breathes a quivering sigh. “You don’t have to be afraid, Henry,” she adds, squeezing his fingers. “All I want for you to be, no, to _feel_ safe. If what happened doesn’t make you feel that way in this house, or near me, then… Then I’ll step back. Until you do feel--”

“No!” Horrified, Henry interferes, looks up to her in alarm. “No, mom! That’s not what I want!” he cries, distraught. “I just got you back! I don’t want to leave you - do you want me to?” His face scrunches up in doubt, fear.

“Oh dear boy, of course not,” Regina chokes on a sob, and she pulls him into his arms, not caring if his grease-stained fingers ruin her silk pajamas. “I just want you to feel _safe_.”

“I want to stay with you,” he says, voice wavering, and Regina meets Emma’s gaze over his head. Emma lifts a corner of her mouth, shrugs an approval. And it’s settled so easily that Regina could cry again. She holds her son close and feels as if a weight lifts from her shoulders. Henry chooses to be here. 

They’ll be all right.

~*~

“At least drink something,” Emma says after Henry has gone to bed. She brings Regina tea - the same tea that Regina had brought up to Emma, not so very long ago. Regina accepts it because she knows Emma won’t back off if she doesn’t, and puts it down so it can cool off a little. 

“I need to know what happened,” she says, swallowing thickly. “You know, after I got…” Her voice wavers, but Emma nods.

“I know,” she says, and she sits on the couch, with enough space between them to sit another person. 

“How did you know that I was in the vault?” She decides she wants to hear the story chronologically. It is one of the many questions that sing through Regina’s head. 

Emma chuckles. “Ruby sniffed you out.” Her smile widens as she sees Regina’s puzzled face. “You poofed your phone back. It had dirt and dust on it. You always keep your office and house meticulously clean, Regina. So it was the only viable option. And David was there because I was upset by your departure and wanted to go immediately and he didn’t want me to drive in that condition.” She smiles sheepishly. “Before we left, I asked Ruby to pick Henry up, because I was too angry with my mother to ask her.”

Regina scoffs. Snow is a whole different subject to tackle but right now, it’s not the most important. 

“So, when we got there,” Emma continues, “We saw some movement at the vault. I thought it might be you so I called out but then, he started shooting. Both I and my dad shot back and then he took off. David followed him, and I went to check on you.”

Regina shivers as she remembers what Emma had run into. Tamara pressed to her own body, her hand on the young woman’s throat. 

“Tamara cursed me,” Regina murmurs, ashamed of what Emma had walked into. “And she… I just _lost_ it.”

“I know. And then you didn’t,” Emma reminds her. “You didn’t kill her. I mean, you _hurt_ her, but you didn’t kill her. If you had wanted to, you could have.” 

“I almost did.”  
  
“But the point is that you _didn’t_.” Emma’s voice grows a little louder and it makes Regina look up. “You controlled it. A couple of months ago, you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Nothing I would have said, nothing I would have tried would have worked. But now you stopped to think and didn’t.”

It is true, Regina knows it. But it’s always easier to emphasize what went wrong than to acknowledge what went well. Emma sees how Regina struggles, and she moves on. “When we were at the school, I saw how he was about to shoot…” Emma’s voice wavers. “I stepped forward and it threw him off guard, I think. Ruby, she… she got shot, but she transformed and went for his throat, but not after he had shot three times. And if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, it would have been me.”

Emma swallows. “And Ruby went for Greg’s throat he had to let Henry go and he ran to us, to you and I guess we both did and there, it gets a little vague for me, too. All I remember was all the blood - God, Regina, there was so much of it.” Her eyes are a little glassy, her voice trembles and Regina feels nauseous. “I tried to keep the pressure on, but there were three holes and I only had two hands and then Henry was there, crying, and I remember yelling at you, threatening you that I’d kill you ten times over if you died.”

Regina sends her a watery smile, sees Emma’s wet gaze, and presses a hand against her chest. She can still feel the searing pain in her chest.

“And then - I don’t know how, but there was this bright light coming from my hand and it took over and I pressed it to your wounds. Like, on instinct? It took forever and it was exhausting so I slept until the next day, but it worked, and then, you didn’t wake up for six days. Nobody knew why.”

“Shitty day,” Regina murmurs, repeating Emma’s earlier words and it lightens the mood if only a little bit. It makes Emma chuckle, through the tears in her eyes. 

“Real shitty,” she hums in agreement. Then, she tilts her head. There’s something I’ve wondered these past days,” she then says, a frown creasing her forehead. “Why didn’t you just magically remove the gun from Greg’s hands? Wasn’t that an option?”

Regina lowers her head. “I could have,” she starts, “but there are two reasons why I didn’t. The first one is that Greg held on to the gun so tightly and he hates magic so much that I feared with whatever movement I made, he would pull the trigger. I... I really wouldn't have put that past him.” Her breath hitches at the thought of what could have happened and a cold shiver violently runs through her body. She folds her hands in her lap, squeezes her fingers tightly. 

“And secondly?”

“Magic is emotion,” Regina answers. “But with the panic and dread running through my body I didn’t trust that I could do it. Had I failed…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire life when I saw that gun pressed against his head. So instead, I just... froze.”

Emma meets her gaze as a single tear runs over her cheek. Regina swallows, but there’s a lump in her throat that she can’t get to go away. “Greg’s dead,” she concludes and she shouldn’t be happy about it, but she is. “What about Tamara?”

“Tamara has been magically cuffed and put in nurse Ratched’s care. I don’t know what fairy tale she’s from, but boy, she’s scary.” She shivers, and it makes Regina smirk. “Anyway, her heart is still in a box because I didn’t know how to put it back and I figured it might not hurt too much to wait to return it until we figured out what to do with her. She gave us the location of the inventory of your vault. She had stashed it in a pretty large RV. We have it under permanent surveillance until you get around to put it back where it belongs.”

Regina nods, grateful. “Thank you.” There’s a thick lump in her throat which she can’t seem to swallow. “And I’m sorry. For… for what happened in the vault.”

“What part?” Emma inquires. 

“For failing. Not listening. Giving in to…” Her voice dies, and she sighs. “It’s so easy to fall into my old routines that I fear that I might never break free from them. Every time I try, I fail. If you and your _father_ hadn’t barged in, I probably would have-” She chokes on her voice.

“Yeah. But he did, and you didn’t.”  
  
“I could have.” There’s a restless frustration building up inside Regina now and she furrows her brow. Emma always does this. Waves away her worries as if it’s nothing. “This is serious, Emma. I’m still dangerous. You saw how little it took--”  
  
She stops when Emma snorts and eyes her in disbelief. “Really, Regina. Do you think that was _little_? Jesus, the whole world came crashing down on you and you’re still standing upright. You didn’t kill anyone, not even after Tamara tried to attack you _after she had robbed and mentally tortured you_.” 

“How?” Regina cries out in frustration. “How can you always look at everything from the positive side? It always ends in disappointment. Desillusion. Bitterness. Failure.” Her magic, so close to the surface, pulses through her veins. Magic is emotion, especially when she is worn out to the bone. Maybe that’s why she is so good at it. She’s never had a shortage of emotions.

“No, it _doesn’t_ ,” Emma says, exasperated. - angry even “You didn’t _fail_. You think the worst of yourself, always, but I don’t. God damnit, Regina, I’ve _seen_ you become a better person! And like I told you in the vault, if _you_ don’t believe in you, then I will until it starts to rub off on you. And if you haven’t noticed yet, I’ll dog you until the day it does.”

There’s a frustrating silence weighing on Regina’s shoulders. Yes, she knows how persistent Emma Swan can be. “But how-”

“Together. Always.” Emma is so convinced that she’s right and Regina is so, so afraid that she is not. 

Regina closes her eyes while Emma’s frustration washes over her. Maybe it’s the emotion, or maybe it’s the fierceness with which the blonde believes, but it makes her realize that she is scared. Agony rises inside her and she breathes in a shaky breath. _Coward_ , Emma said before. Maybe she is right.

“What if I can’t do it?” Her voice is quieter now.

“I _know_ you can,” Emma counters vehemently.

“I know you believe that. But what if I can’t?” 

“Well,” Emma answers, more gentle, frustration all but gone from her voice, “Then we’ll start over again. We’ll take as much time as we need to get it right. I am not giving up on you. No matter how hard you’re pushing me away. Though I wish you rather didn’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Regina’s voice wavers.

“Regina…” Emma’s voice is more gentle. She takes Regina’s hands. “The hardest part of this world is to live in it. That’s something…. we’ve both figured out a long, long time ago. You’re bound to hurt me. As I’m bound to hurt you - we both have our insecurities and we’ll both lash out if things don’t go our way. And then we’ll make up.” The radiating confidence makes Regina involuntarily shake her head.

And then, Regina sobs. Once. And immediately, Emma moves closer, and her arms surround Regina as her hands travel upwards, from her hands to her shoulders, pulling her close. Her hand soothingly coasts down Regina’s back, up and down. Regina’s trembling, forces herself to regulate her breathing.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be _good_ , though.” Her voice is calmer than she feels. Her emotions are tumbling over each other, clashing in her stomach.

“Oh please don’t ever be,” Emma replies, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Good is boring. I like your fire.” She grins when she catches Regina’s surprised look. “But there’s a huge difference between being truly evil and being an asshole sometimes.” Regina snorts at that. 

“Speaking of evil,” Emma continues in a suspiciously casual tone, “You should probably know that everyone thinks that you’ve now saved the town, twice, and consider you to be a hero of some sorts. You’re all they talk about.” 

Regina raises her eyes to meet her gaze and sees the twinkling eyes. Then, she scoffs. “Hardly. I wanted to save you and Henry, twice. I could care less about the rest.”  
  
“Uh-huh. Sure. Tell that to Archie. Or Ruby.” There’s a smug smirk on Emma’s face. “Anyway, I thought you should know in case people start talking to you and you turn them into frogs or anything.”

“I’d never,” Regina huffs, “I’m more refined than that.”

“They might show up on your doorstep _._ ”  
  
“I pity the fools who do,” she scowls, unsettled. Emma throws her head in her neck and laughs, and at this moment, it’s the most beautiful sound Regina has ever heard. She has enough answers for now and happily slides back into the bubble they had before everything went down. She relaxes in Emma’s embrace and sits with her, while Emma informs her about her work, about the town, and about everything nonsensical that’s happened these past few days until Regina’s eyes grow heavy again and she sinks away in a blissfully dreamless sleep.

~*~

Emma stays. They fall back into their old routine, with one difference - Emma stays in the guest room. With Regina’s nightmares gone (or well, most of them, anyway), there’s no need to share a bed. And it was Regina who tentatively requested the change. “I know I’ve asked a lot from you lately,” she had quietly said, “but I need to be okay on my own as well. I don’t just want to depend on you. I need to prove myself that I can still do this.” Emma had frowned but accepted her words a little begrudgingly. And even though she still stands by her decision, Regina misses it. The intimacy, their quiet confessions in the dark of the night, Emma’s proximity, the cuddles, waking up together. Now, every morning, she awakens in her bed and automatically turns to see if Emma’s next to her.

She never is. 

Sometimes she scolds herself for withdrawing, for wanting to create this distance. She hates herself for forcing herself to take a step back. But she knows that this won’t last, Emma being here. Emma might not see the problem, but Regina does. Every day, she is confronted with the entire Charming clan in the streets of Storybrooke, often enough to keep the reason why it can never last, lodged fresh in her mind. So, yes, Emma might have been outraged for making the choice for her, but Regina really didn't see any other way. And still doesn't.

To be honest, she doesn’t really know why Emma is still here. Regina has recovered, only has three tiny scars as a memory, and life as she knows it resumes, minus the bad dreams. There is no need for Emma to stay - Emma had stood by Regina's side without staying in the mansion, before - but Regina also doesn’t want her to go at the same time, so she doesn’t say anything about it. Besides, having Emma over at the mansion also results in Henry living with her, full-time, and that’s all that she’s ever truly wanted, right. Having him permanently under her roof makes her happy. So she’ll maintain the status quo. For him. 

She resumes her old routines. She takes walks after Emma and Henry leave the house, with the stark difference that people don’t cross the street anymore when she comes around the corner. She still narrows her eyes at them, sneers and scowls at them, and most of them leave her alone. But Marco tips his hat every time she passed his shop. Granny offers her something that looks like a half-smile every time she stops for coffee. Even Kathryn, the woman she had kidnapped, hid, used so she could frame Snow for murder, nods at her.

It unnerves her immensely. She doesn’t know how to deal with them. Not after everything she’s put them through. Apparently, it takes only two alleged town-savings to turn the popular opinion and she rolls her eyes at the thought.

When the next idiot smiles at her she has enough, curls up her lip in a sneer, and waves with her hand in a circular motion, teleporting herself to the docks. 

“Whoah. Fancy seeing you here.”

Regina whirls around before the wisps of purple have completely vanished and spots Ruby, sitting on the bench behind her. She wears a coat with one sleeve hanging limply next to her arm -- her wounded arm must be underneath the coat. She has a scarf around her neck and a hat on her head against the cutting wind. “Miss Lucas,” Regina acknowledges. If she needs to run into someone, Ruby is the least annoying of them all.

Besides, Ruby is the one that ultimately got Henry away from Greg. Killed him. “May I?” Regina asks, gesturing to the spot next to Ruby. Ruby smiles. “Of course.”

Then, they both fall silent. It’s almost funny how they always seem to do that. And Regina is even more surprised how the silence isn’t awkward. Or well, at least not until she chooses to make it awkward. She glances at Ruby from her peripheral view, eyes her through her lashes, not really knowing what to say and she starts to shift. Then, on a whim, she raises her hands and in a tiny movement of air, she materializes two coffees. Offers one to Ruby. 

“Hey, neat trick! Thanks,” Ruby grins surprised, accepting it with a free hand, and then, she turns her head to meet Regina’s gaze. “How are you, Regina?”  
  
“Fine,” Regina automatically answers and doesn’t elaborate on it. “How are you?”  
  
Ruby shrugs, then winces. “Sore. But it’s healing nicely. Whale scolded me for transforming after getting shot. Said lodged the bullet in my shoulder blade and made it hell to get out, so the healing process will probably be longer than a couple of weeks.” A shadow slides over her face. “He said it might always bother me a little. Especially when I run in wolf form.” She lifts a corner of her mind in a half-smile. “But you know, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“And I’ll be forever grateful,” Regina murmurs. “Thank you for saving him, Ruby.”

“Well,” Ruby points out, “it was a joint effort. If you hadn’t distracted him, I wouldn’t have the chance to get to him.”  
  
“Distracted.” Regina echoes, and raises an eyebrow. 

“Well yeah, getting shot and all.” Ruby grins, but then her face turns serious again. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

Now, Regina’s brow furrows. Kindness never meant much to Regina. She is distrustful of everyone who displays any form of politeness, or even affection. Maybe Ruby is just trying to be nice. But for someone who’s been alone for most of her adult life, it’s a strange concept. People who were nice to her usually wanted something from her.

“Why?” she thus asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice. 

“Why am I happy you’re not dead?” Ruby raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yes.”

“Well, um,” Ruby starts, “because I like hanging out with you, I guess.” She smirks sheepishly and all Regina can utter is a disbelieving snort.

“We barely spoke,” she retorts.

“Maybe. But contrary to popular belief, I can be silent and comfortable with people at the same time. I mean, I spent a lot of time alone in the Enchanted Forest because people were afraid of me and I was afraid I’d hurt them.” Regina just looks at her. Ruby smiles. “I don’t know, I just think… I can relate to your struggles. And it’s nice to be around someone who understands.”  
  
“Who understands what?” There’s a sharp edge to Regina’s voice. 

“That real life isn’t like a fairy tale. That the curse was actually a blessing in disguise. It was for me. I think it was for you, too.” She smiles. “With the difference that I actually forgot who I was and you didn’t.”

Regina blinks heavily. Either Ruby is enormously insightful, or Archie or Emma have talked to her. Her thoughts are racing -- she can’t believe either of them talking to Ruby, because she trusts them.

Trust is still a new and strange concept. It’s taken her a long time, but she really does trust them both with her secrets. She frowns as she meets Ruby’s green eyes again, eyes her with a new appreciation. She is impressed.

“What? You just found out that I’m smarter than you thought?” Ruby looks a little smug and it draws a surprised chuckle from Regina before her face grows serious again. “But it really was a blessing, not realizing who, or what, I was. I was an outcast in the Enchanted Forest. People hunted me until Snow helped me to figure out where I belonged - until an order was given out not to hunt the wolves anymore. But even then, I was met with suspicion if people found out what I really was. I was always cautious. Here, I didn’t have to be.”

Snow’s name still makes Regina’s shoulders tense, but she doesn’t say anything as she takes in Ruby’s words. There are some similarities in both their stories. The loneliness. The wariness of other people. “I know that it’s probably not what you intended when you cursed us all, but thanks, anyway.”

“I suppose you’re welcome.”

Ruby flashes her a smile, then sips her coffee. Eyes Regina thoughtfully. “Do you,” she slowly starts, and she tilts her head the tiniest bit. Like a dog does when it sees something of interest, but still, a bit guarded. “Do you believe that we could’ve been friends? In the Enchanted Forest? If things had gone differently and I’d have met you?”

“No,” Regina immediately answers, and Ruby frowns. It's clearly not the answer that she had expected.

“Huh. Why not?”  
  
“Because I wouldn’t have let you come close. In the end, I was hardly human, in the end,” Regina is surprised by her own answer. “I used people. I didn’t befriend them. I hurt them. They were tools. In the end, I even killed my own father to cast the curse. I was unable to form any type of connection.”

“Hm,” Ruby hums, thinking about that for a reason. “I see.” Another silence settles over them. Regina turns her head back to her coffee and blows in the cup. The wind is picking up and it numbs her face. She stares at the waves, now increasing in size, and she sighs.

“But you've changed. Do you think we could be friends now, here in Storybrooke?” she hears next to her and Regina turns her head, surprised. Her face pulls into a frown, alarm bells ringing in her ears. 

“Why?” she sharply asks, nostrils flaring. “Want to see if the dark side’s cookies have more appeal than the sickeningly sugary sweets the Charming regime has handed out?”

“Oh, Regina.” Ruby grins, shakes her head as if she is gently chastising a child and it riles Regina up even more. “Don’t you know that there’s no such thing as dark and light anymore? Good and evil? I mean, if anything has proven faulty here in Storybrooke, it’s the concept of _that_. We’re all grey, especially in this stupid little town.”

Regina’s head snaps up and her eyes narrow as she hears the familiar words. White, gray, black. “Have you been talking to Emma?” she suspiciously asks.  
  
“Why would I?” Ruby answers, brow furrowed for a moment in genuine confusion, but then, her face breaks open in a wide smile. “Talking about Emma, what’s the beef there? I mean, you’re living together, right? Spill it.” She glares conspiring and Regina scoffs. She shifts uneasily, reminded by the choices she has made.

“Miss Lucas-”

“Don’t Miss Lucas me. You’re my friend. Friends tell secrets. So spill it.” Ruby cackles as she sees the uneasiness on Regina’s face before Regina scowls at her. 

“I am not ‘spilling’ anything. I have to go," Regina snipes.

“Sure you do,” Ruby says, good-natured. She follows Regina with her eyes when Regina stands up and raises her hand to teleport herself out. But then, she waits, turns her head towards Ruby, eyes thoughtful.

“Ruby?”

“Hm?” Ruby smiles, gazes up at her.

“Come see me later. I think I have something for your shoulder that should take the pain away, and not just temporarily.” It’s the least she can do for Ruby, for saving Henry. “It should have you run in your wolf form without pain again.”

Ruby’s eyes shimmer. “Really?” Regina nods once, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Thanks! I surely will. See? We’re friends already.” The she-wolf smiles a wide, toothy grin.

Regina rolls her eyes and twists her hand, and Ruby’s laugh follows her home in a purple cloud of smoke.


	16. Chapter 16

The next day, she has an appointment with Archie. She doesn’t feel as nervous for them anymore as she used to, but there’s always this agitated flutter in her stomach when she goes up the stairs to his office. Because there’s always something unpredictable. She never really knows what their conversations are going to lead to. She grants him a polite smile as he opens the door for her.

“How are you, Regina?” Archie’s gentle eyes observe her after she’s taken her seat on the now-familiar couch. Pongo has taken his regular place next to Regina and eyes her expectantly. She smiles fondly at the dog, lifts her hand to scratch him behind his ears. They, too, have come a long way since he had confusedly, unknowingly told the Charmings that she had killed his master. In the end, he’s been some kind of therapist on his own, as well.

“Fine,” she automatically answers. And she sighs immediately, impatient with herself. “No. I’m not. I don’t know.”

The distance she needs from Emma is eating her up from the inside. She wants it, and at the same time, she doesn't. She confuses herself, doesn't trust her own judgement as her own feelings clash on the insides, and it's starting to wear her out. She still believes it's the right decision, but something inside her makes her question her rational decision. It's a persistent little voice, nagging. And it's wearing her out. 

He smiles. Tilts his head a little. And she inhales. “I’m tired. Exhausted.”

“Are you still having nightmares?” He frowns. They have talked about Tamara and the spell that had amplified her deepest fears before. What it had done to her. What it had nearly made her do, in the vault.    
  
“No, or well, not the violent ones like I had when I was under a spell,” she clarifies. “And not every night anymore. Sometimes. But I’m used to those, I suppose.” She grimaces. Used to having bad dreams hardly sounds like she’s healing, but Archie leans back a little, eyes her pensively.

“Then what is it that exhausts you?”

“Life, I suppose.” She smiles a tired smile. Archie sits up a little straighter, eyes alert, and she continues with a sigh, “I don’t mean it as melodramatic as it sounds. It’s like… I’m in an endless struggle with life. I have the constant feeling that there’s something hanging over me. Like an axe, ready to fall, at the very moment when I’m not cautious. And it wears me out to always be on guard.”

Archie nods once. “It’s not odd, Regina, with what you’ve gone through these past weeks. It’s only natural to expect something else is coming, even if it’s not.”

“It’s not just that I expect that something or someone is coming from me. It’s also… it’s like I’m constantly second-guessing myself.” She frowns. “I’m overthinking everything, lately.”

“Why do you think that is?” Archie pushes his glasses further on his nose, his eyes never leaving her face. 

Regina shakes her head. “I never had any problems with making decisions. I mean, it might not have always been the  _ right  _ ones, but I made them without much hesitation.” Her hands have stilled and Pongo pushes his wet nose in her palm, and she automatically returns to scratching his head.

“What’s different now?”

“I suppose it’s because I now…  _ care  _ about what other people think.” She sees how Archie’s eyes start to crinkle and she sends a deadly glare in his direction. “A little,” she adds with a huff. Archie tries to straighten out his face and nods. “It complicates matters because I don’t want to let them down.”

“Do you believe you will?”

“Yes.” She smiles wryly.

“Why?”

“Because I always do.” She sighs, feels a little gloomy, and turns her eyes to her hand, still petting Pongo who has squeezed his eyes tight in delight. “I’m just… waiting for it to happen. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What keeps you from making a decision now? Why don’t you take matters into your own hands and make sure it doesn’t?” Archie tilts his head a little. 

“Because I don’t want things to change,” Regina sighs. “I know I’m in a pretty good place right now. I just can’t seem to… enjoy it as much as I would like, because I’m too scared to mess up and it’ll be worse than the exhaustion that I feel right now. Maybe out of all the options, exhaustion is the best pick.”

There’s a silence after that and it lingers on for so long, that Regina turns her head to look at Archie.

“Ah.” It’s all he says. There’s a silence after that, and Regina narrows her eyes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she says irritably. She feels as if she’s overshared, but there’s a glance on Archie’s face as if he suddenly understands something that she doesn’t.

“May I make a… bold assumption?”

“Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like what I hear?” she retorts, and he smiles at that, but waits until she rolls her eyes and huffs, “Fine.”

“Have you told Emma?”   
  
“Told her what?” she replies, a little snappy.

“I think you know.” His gaze is holding hers and she fights to keep their eyes locked, until she can’t. Her eyes drop to the floor. Emotions coil in her belly as her heart starts to pound against her chest. She feels flustered, withdraws her hand from Pongo, laces her fingers in her lap, and squeezes. And she swallows hard. 

“No. I can’t.” She sounds a little hoarse and scrapes her throat.

“Why not?” Archie curiously says. 

“Because I don’t want her to have to choose between me and her family.” In fact, Regina has already made that choice for her.

“Why do you assume she’s going to have to?” He sounds genuinely surprised and it makes anger and frustration flare up faster than she can suppress it.

“Have you paid attention to her mother’s history and my own?” she snaps, pressing her nails into the palms of her hands.

“Of course. But that doesn’t mean that there is a choice to make. It also doesn’t mean that there aren’t any ways to make it work. If Emma has taught us anything, is that there’s always a third way.”

Regina doesn’t respond. It’s not like she hasn’t thought about this over and over and over again. “What if this  _ is _ the third way? I just don’t want to end what there is now and make it  _ worse _ .”

Archie looks at her with this intense gaze he always gets when he’s trying to formulate a sentence in a nicer way and she is too impatient to wait for it. “What?”

He scrapes his throat. “Well, don’t you believe that is a little selfish?”

Alarmed and a little outraged, she stares at him. “Selfish?”

“You’re making the choice for the both of you, but it’s her family. Doesn’t she get a say in the matter?”

“I made the choice, so she doesn’t have to,” Regina barks back. And then, her shoulders sag a little. She hates feeling this insecure, this vulnerable. “We already spoke about it.” They had, in the vault. Emma had called her a coward. She scoffs at the memory. 

They’d never continued that conversation. “She probably would’ve said something already if she wanted something different.”

“Is that so? Isn’t she waiting for you to make the first move?”

Regina inhales sharply and stares at her hands, folded in her lap. And she sees how they’re trembling so she quickly laces her fingers together and squeezes. Emma has never put any pressure on her. Has mostly let her figure things out at her own pace, save for some hearty outbursts, maybe. She remembers how Emma once asked what it was that Regina wanted. Her answer was Henry,  _ family.  _

And it’s like she is walking on thin ice. 

“What if she isn’t?” she softly asks.

“There’s only one way to find out.” She raises her gaze at Archie’s equally soft reply. There’s a certainty in his kind, gentle eyes, and a familiar frustration builds up inside her. 

_ Coward, _ a voice whispers in her head, but there’s also something else. A whiff of darkness lingering, warning her what could happen if she doesn’t find the answer that she needs. “I can’t.”

Archie exhales softly. “Regina… you’ve built such a complicated web of layers to protect yourself from any form of harm. But think about this: what if your self-protection turns out to be self-destructive?” 

Regina ponders on that. “It’s been destructive in the past,” she has to agree, “but towards others. Not against myself.”

“Are you sure about that?” Archie holds her gaze as she looks up, brow furrowed. 

No, she isn’t sure. In fact, she knows it isn’t true. Because her destruction of others eventually led to the destruction of her own humanity. She wraps her arms around her own body. 

“I have to think,” she murmurs, reaching blindly for her coat.

“Of course,” Archie says, leaning back into his chair, offering her a sympathetic smile, “But remember, Regina. You don’t get what you don’t fight for.”

Those words linger in her head longer than she likes.

~*~

After her slightly unsettling conversation with Archie, Regina returned to an empty house. Emma works the evening shift at the station and Henry had asked if he could spend the night at Nick Tillman’s place, which she couldn’t refuse. Because of her, he has barely had any friends growing up. And it’s good that he’s making them now. She’s proud of him.

But most of the evening is spent pondering over Archie’s words. Thinks about Emma’s words, in the vault, accusing her of being a coward. And Emma’s right. Archie’s right. It is always easier to settle into something that leaves her content because she believes that’s all she is entitled to than to move forward and go after the thing she really wants. The last time she really went after something she thought she really wanted, she destroyed a realm and countless lives. Of course, the difference is that then, her want was based on revenge. Right now, it’s based on… what? 

She scoffs at herself. She can’t even  _ think _ it. 

God, she feels so vulnerable.  _ Love is weakness, _ her mother whispers, and Regina winces. Is it, though? Love? Once, she used it freely. Once, she told Daniel she loved him and she  _ did _ . All those years ago. And again, not so long ago, in the stables of Storybrooke. Her breath hitches as she remembers the pain she felt when she had to let him go.  _ Love again. _

She doesn’t want to feel that pain anymore, and she has a strong feeling that Emma is capable of hurting her that way. Or even more.  _ You’re bound to hurt me. As I’m bound to hurt you.  _ She shivers. 

Fuck.

Suddenly restless with a heart that pounds in her head, Regina strides to the kitchen. She takes out the flour, yeast, and salt, and fills a few cups of water. Making dough for bread is a great way to alleviate some tension in her body, and she quickly gets to work. It’s something she has done so often that her hands do it automatically as she tries to get her thoughts straight. Tries to settle her anxiety. Normally, preparing food helps. This time, not so much, but having to work on the dough at least gives her some exercise. 

But she’s soon interrupted by the doorbell. It’s after ten in the evening which means that Emma’s shift doesn’t end for another hour, and she has a key to the mansion anyway - maybe she’s forgotten it? Regina frowns, shakes her head. She wouldn’t put it past her. So she washes her hands, takes a towel, and enters the hallway, makes her way to the front door, and opens it.

It’s not at all who she expected and all the alarm bells in her head are exploding simultaneously.

“No. Go away,” she barks. Her insides feel knotted together, rage explodes inside her stomach instantly. How the hell dare she show up like this, at night? Her breath accelerates, her magic brims in her fingertips and she curls her fingers into fists. Nostrils flare as she narrows her eyes, nearly wheezing as her heart slams against her chest.

“I know you don’t want to see me, but there’s something I have to say.” Snow eyes her a bit warily, but her voice is calmer than the last time they saw each other. 

“I don’t care,” Regina snaps, closing the door already. “Get the hell off my porch, go back to your shepherd, and tend to the part of the flock that does still find you appealing enough to lead. I want  _ nothing  _ to do with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Snow quickly says, right before the door slams shut - but it does anyway. The sound, alas, isn’t as definitive as Regina had hoped it would be. Because god damnit, Snow  _ never ever _ learns when she’s not wanted, when she has to leave - when she has to give the fuck  _ up _ . “For everything,” Snow adds, voice raised to reach the other side of the door. Regina heaves in the fresh air, her shoulders painfully squeezed together as she presses her hands flat against the door, making sure Snow cannot get in. For her own protection.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it after everything that’s happened, but I really am. I just…” Snow’s voice wavers and Regina squeezes her eyes shut. Her own breathing is shaky. “You were right. Daniel was my fault. I betrayed your trust. I just… I don’t know.” She sighs. “I’ve had a very sheltered life when I was growing up but that doesn’t mean I should have been more considerate. You asked for help and I didn’t understand and… I’m sorry.”

She remembers Daniel, whose body she cradled after her mother crushed his heart. Her mother’s acceptance of the King’s marriage proposal. Her own pleas, begging Snow to let her leave. The two of them, standing over Daniel's grave. Her handing Snow the apple. 

Snow’s denial, the final betrayal when she finally learned the full truth about daddy dearest.

Part of Regina wants to open the door, wants to scream at her, scratch Snow’s eyes out. And part of her is cackling victoriously for finally having the White princess confessing that she isn’t as white as she would like to believe. It’s like a wrong has been righted, even if the apology comes in the darkness of the night, and at the same time, all Regina wants to do is strangle her. Her nostrils flare with restless anger, and frustration that only grows bigger and bigger.

But Snow isn’t done yet. “And thank you, for saving Emma.” Her voice is quieter now, and there’s a tremble in it and for some reason, Snow talking about Emma draws another sharp nail over Regina’s heartstrings. “She told me what happened. I… We just found her and…” There’s a brief pause. “Thank you.” A shuffling of feet at the other side of the door. Snow sighs. “Again. I’m sorry. Tell Emma I said hi.”

And then, more shuffling, and retreating footsteps. Regina leans her head against the door for a few seconds, heaves in a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, trying to get rid of sudden nausea and lightheadedness, then turns and marches back to the kitchen. The fucking bread isn’t going to make itself. She adds the ingredients and starts kneading and pounding with more force than necessary. Tears sting behind her eyes. She claws into the dough, squeezes it tightly, slams into it with all her frustration while dread builds up inside her.

Because the bubble in which she’s spent time with Emma and Henry has just burst with a loud ‘pop’. In the end, that’s what it was - a bubble, away from reality, away from the outside world, despite all Regina's inner conflicts. And being confronted with the reason why it could never have been more than that, is tearing her heart apart. She chokes on a sob but suppresses it without remorse. She is furious at Snow and her fucking audacity to show up here late at night, frustrated with herself and the way she allowed herself to be vulnerable these past weeks. Fool, fool,  _ fool,  _ she scolds herself, angrily clawing into the dough, punching it with her fists. The axe has fallen. The other shoe has dropped -- she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. And it makes her angry, because she _should_ have expected it.

It’s how Emma finds her an hour later. She stands on the threshold and looks at her, amused, her hair and shoulders a little wet with the rain she just walked through to get inside. “What did the poor dough do to you?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice, hands in her pockets, taking a few steps forward. 

“Your mother showed up,” Regina snarls, unable to control herself. Immediately, Emma’s posture changes, there’s a worried glance on Emma’s face and she takes a few steps into the kitchen, a frown on her forehead.

“Shit, Regina. How are you?” 

And Regina can’t deal with the understanding, doesn’t want to  _ need  _ her so much. Snow showing up shattered her conviction that they can maintain this way of life, this status quo. And she simply cannot deal. Her anger is redirected   


“What does it fucking look like?” she snaps, balling her hands into fists. “How dare she show up unannounced? How the hell does she get it in her self-righteous  _ mind _ ?”

“What did she say?” Emma comes around the kitchen isle, but Regina raises her hands to stop her. Emma halts immediately and Regina takes a step back at the same time, needing the distance between Emma and her own, vulnerable self. A headache starts to pound in the back of her head.

“She apologized. For fucking everything. And thanked me for saving you in the process,” she sneers.

“Um, okay. That’s a good thing… right?” Emma looks a little puzzled at the tone directed at her and it agitates Regina even more - she’s angry at herself for lashing out, and in the process, Emma’s understanding only intensifies her fury. “I mean, it’s not the smartest move to show up here after everything that’s happened, but I think she lives to tell the tale and you got what you wanted?”

Regina turns back to the counter and her fist smash into the dough. “You don’t fucking know what I want,” she bites out. Her eyes sting and she blinks rapidly, refusing the tears to even form. Her lip curls up in disgust. Because she wanted it all, knowing very well that that would never be in her cards. Henry. Emma. She loathes herself for allowing Emma to get under her skin - it’s not Emma’s fault, it’s her own. But now, she wants her gone. To end the hurt. 

Emma takes a step back and her face pulls into a frown as she raises her hands, palms open and eyes widening. “Whoa. Why is this suddenly about me?”

It isn’t about Emma. It really isn’t. But Emma is here and Regina is frustrated and angry with herself and needs to hurt, needs to lash out and Regina can’t stop herself as purple spots appear in her peripheral vision. Her magic is interfering. She digs her sparking fingers in the dough, breathing quickly.

“Regina-”

“Why are you still here, Emma?” she barks at her, “My nightmares are over. There’s no reason for you to stay now, is there?”

“Jesus, Regina -”

“No! Is it just  _ convenient  _ for you?” she attacks her, relentlessly, aims where it will hurt the most, “To not be at your parent’s loft with your pregnant mother as a constant reminder of what you’ve missed out on? Is it easier to be here, have your meal prepared and I don’t know, maybe-”

“If you don’t stop talking I’ll just punch you in the face. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.” Emma’s voice sounds dangerously low, her eyes are ablaze, and Regina’s mouth snaps shut. Emma didn’t even need to raise her voice to be heard. She breathes shallowly, blinks until the purple haze clears up, and draws in a shuddering breath.

_ Fuck. _

Why, why,  _ why _ would she say things like that to the only person who has always chosen her side? Her breath hitches, the fight suddenly gone from her body.  _ Doesn’t she get a say in the matter?  _ Archie had called her selfish for making decisions on her own. She’d called it protecting herself because that’s what it usually was.

She knows why she did it. Because if she’s really honest with herself, Regina has never truly let herself believe that Emma would stick around and lashing out like this - it has to prove her point that in the end, Regina  _ will  _ be alone. 

And it appears it  _ does,  _ this time.

Emma eyes her furiously, but her anger is mixed with devastation, hurt, and disappointment. Her eyes shine dangerously and her gaze drops. Her shoulders slump and she lightly shakes her head, sighs in defeat. Regina is the reason why and god, it hurts like hell - it’s unlike anything she’s ever felt. Something has broken and Regina’s not sure that it can ever be fixed. The pain that thought causes sears through her body and soul, slices through Regina’s chest as the blonde turns on her heels and leaves the kitchen. Regina’s heart bleeds. She raises her hands, buries her fingers in her hair and squeezes, pulls her hair, and welcomes the pain, whirls around until she catches her own reflection in the window. 

The Evil Queen stares back at her, eyes red-rimmed, tormented. 

_ What if your self-protection turns out to be self-destructive? _

Her breath stutters. Her stomach squeezes violently. 

What has she  _ done _ ? 

Her breath accelerates and it’s like she can’t take in enough oxygen. Black spots appear in her peripheral view as she stares at her own reflection and it feels as if she needs to throw up as her heart squeezes painfully. And the sounds of doors of the cabinets in her bedroom opening and closing makes the situation even more real, more antagonizing than it already is. Paralyzing panic soars through her veins. Emma is packing her things. 

Emma is  _ leaving _ . 

Regina’s breath stops. Her constant need to prove that everyone will eventually leave, has pushed Emma over the edge and she’s actually complying with her wishes and it’s the  _ last  _ thing Regina wants. And before she knows it, she’s flying up the stairs and bursting into the guest bedroom in which Emma has been staying the past week. Emma sits on the bed, her bag next to her. Her eyes are red, shining with tears but she looks furious as she looks up. Frustrated. And sad, hurt, so hurt - Regina’s heart is about to shatter.  _ She _ did this.

_ What if your self-protection turns out to be self-destructive? _

Archie’s words hammer in her head. She knows she wanted a distance between them. She needed it to make sure she would be okay when Emma was leaving - it’s one of the reasons she suggested Emma taking the guest room again. It was a way to guard herself against the inevitable. 

But now the inevitable has arrived, Emma is leaving and Regina is not okay. She is not ready. She never will be. And it has nothing to do with choices made, with Snow’s meddling, and  _ everything _ with herself. This is on  _ Regina, _ and Regina alone. She’s not sure she can fix this, but she has to try.

“Don’t,” Regina says, hand still on the doorknob. Her eyes are wide with panic, she breathes shallowly.

“Don’t what?” Emma snaps. She averts her eyes, stuffs a shirt in her bag.

“Don’t go. I’m… sorry.”

There’s a short pause as Regina’s words echo through the room in a desperate attempt to take back what she said. Even to her own ears, her apology sounds lame.

“Are you?” Bitterness is lined in Emma’s voice. “Because it sure as hell sounded like you meant everything you just threw at me.”

Regina shakes her head, her breath stutters. “I don’t know where that came from. I was upset and you were there and… I didn’t mean any of it.”

There’s a long pause before Emma sighs with a shaky breath. Her shoulders slump as she deflates.

"What the hell do you want? What do you want from me, Regina?” There’s anger, exasperation, defeat, and listlessness - a combination that makes Regina want to cry.

“I… I…”  _ Love is weakness. _ She swallows hard, her heart pounding loudly.  _ Coward _ , she thinks. She can’t even say it. There’s a lump in her throat that prevents her from making coherent sentences and she doesn’t even know what she would want to say in the first place. Words fly through her head, but she’s unable to catch them, crippled with fear. She shakes her head, tries to force out the words but the only thing that comes from her mind is an exasperated sigh and she’s hot, so hot - her palms are sweaty, her face heats up, but her words are stuck in her throat.

Emma deflates even further while Regina’s struggle continues. “Yeah, I thought so,” the blonde sighs in defeat. “You don’t even know what you want.” But then, she grits her teeth in frustration and her face hardens. “I mean, I never asked for  _ anything. _ I just wanted to help you, your friendship, and maybe,  _ maybe-”  _ She stops herself from adding more to that sentence, and instantly, Regina wishes that she had finished it. But Emma grabs another shirt, stuffs it into the bag with more force than needed. Regina follows her actions, opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. She’s paralyzed. 

“Until you figure out what it is that you want, it is best for me to leave.” There’s a resignation in Emma’s voice that Regina has never heard before and it’s like a cold hand envelops her heart and squeezes, much like she’s squeezed many hearts before. Her breath stops and she gasps, which makes Emma look up. 

“Listen,” she continues, “I can't believe that I'm going to say this but I'm not sure you even deserve it, but.... I know what you said is you lashing out because you’re hurt and in pain. But that doesn’t mean your words don’t hurt like a bitch. You are an asshole. I always only wanted to help you, but I don’t want to be your punching bag whenever things don’t go your way. So I need to go because I’m not sure I will come out of this unscathed if I don’t.” Her voice trembles, and she runs a hand through her unruly curls. Regina’s thoughts race, so hard, that she can’t figure out a way to make this better. She tries to swallow the thickness in her throat, eyes wide, stinging.

“Just understand… that I will never give up on you or the happy ending you deserve. I just… need more distance between us to help you accomplish that. And maybe give me a few days to process.” She smiles weakly. 

The panic nearly suffocates Regina when she sees how Emma turns to her bag, stuffs the remaining spare clothes she left here in it. Her fingers tingle to grab her, hold her in place, but she knows Emma would never allow her to. If she doesn’t do anything now, something will shatter and Regina’s not sure that it can ever be fixed.

“I’m an idiot,” Regina blurts out, and she doesn’t know why she says it but at least it stills Emma’s movements and that’s  _ something. _

“Finally something we can agree on,” Emma murmurs, and they’re the exact same words of nearly a lifetime ago when Emma came to apologize to Regina after taking Henry to New York. Emma looks up to Regina, who’s still standing next to the door. Regina gazes back to Emma, still sitting on the bed. And she knows, she  _ knows _ she has to be brave. Has to make this right and the only way she can -- 

“I… I need you,” Regina continues, her voice wavering.

Emma’s gaze seems to turn hopeful for a second, but then it clouds over as Regina falls silent again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure that is enough, right now,” she softly replies. “Because I feel so much for you that it physically hurts.” She averts her eyes, directs her gaze towards the bag next to her. “And I thought I could do this, I thought I could give you the space you needed while I… but not like this. Not when you-- and I just can’t-” Her voice falters. 

Regina inhales sharply and takes a tentative step towards the bed, but she stops when Emma’s back tenses. A tear rolls over Emma’s cheek but she roughly wipes it away. Regina takes a step back again, hands pressed too her stomach to try and suppress the nausea. And when Emma gets up, Regina unwillingly steps aside to let her through. “I’m sorry, Regina,” Emma says softly, and Regina can’t understand why she would say that because she has nothing to be sorry for. Self-loathe washes over her in waves, they crash down on her as she follows Emma with her gaze. Emma, who descends the stairs, shoulders slumped. Regina did this to her. And Emma has every reason to leave. 

Because Emma is right. Yes, Regina has requested some distance. But in the end, she really didn’t want that. She’s been miserable ever since she made the choice for Emma in the diner - the choice to retreat so Emma wouldn’t have to choose between her and her family and after, the choice to distance herself to protect herself. She’s lied to both Emma and herself and Emma doesn’t deserve that. She deserves more, way more than Regina can ever give her. Because in the end, Regina will only destroy herself and drag Emma down with her, as she always does.

Almost automatically, Regina’s feet follow her. “You’re right,” she says, voice breaking, when Emma has reached the front door. The blonde turns, hand on the doorknob. “You should go. I’m… I’m only going to cause you pain. I don’t  _ know _ how to do anything else -- pain,  _ hurting  _ is what I’m good at.” A sad smile seems to flash over Emma’s face as she averts her gaze. “I don’t want that for you,” Regina adds, almost at the bottom of the stairs now, herself. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to push you away so hard to prove that you would run, like I told myself you always will - but you never did until I…” She feels shame. The words she threw at Emma were the lowest she could have used, and her cheeks are burning. “I truly am sorry. You deserve the world. Not someone destroying it with every step she takes.”

For a moment, their eyes lock. “You’re right,” Emma murmurs, “I don’t.” And when nothing else comes, she sighs, quietly opens the door, goes through it, and with a last, brief glance at Regina, closes it behind her. 

The soft click of the lock is ringing loudly in her ears. 

And then, her knees buckle, she gasps, and she sinks on the stairs abruptly. There’s an emptiness in her chest that is worse than the one she’d felt after she had cast the curse. After she had killed her father. 

After Daniel.

She pulls up her knees. Wraps her arms around them. Suddenly cold to the bone, she shudders violently, breath ragged with emotions, tears brimming. 

Her breath stutters again, a lump screwing her throat shut. She is alone. And she’s brought it on herself. And then, Archie whispers in her head.  _ You don’t get what you don’t fight for. _

Her thoughts fly to another moment in time. 

_ Fight for Henry. Fight for your family.  _ It’s something Emma said in the vault when she had a death grip on Tamara. What family was that? All she had was Henry.

But no, that’s not true, is it? Emma was outraged after finding out that Regina had made a choice for her, in that diner. Because it came after  _ You’re very important to me, Regina _ and  _ I like you - all parts of you. _ Emma has felt like family for a long time already.

And _ if you really want to be a better person, then become one. _ It sounds so simple. And she inhales sharply, as a once outrageous accusation makes her flinch. 

_ Coward. _

Regina has never regarded herself as a coward before and despite the hurt, she scoffs at herself. She’s never been this insecure before, either. So vulnerable. 

She’s never broken someone’s heart so violently before because she couldn’t show weakness - not even by squeezing it. She raises her hands, buries them in her hair. She’s going to regret this for the rest of her life -- _Coward,_ _coward, coward,_ whispers in her mind. _Fight for your family --_ if she doesn’t do anything. She needs to fight for her family. Even if it’s the last thing she does.

Before she realizes it, she’s jumped up and rushes to the door, which she yanks open. Emma slams the door of the bug shut and moves to the other side, to get in. Snow has started to fall - thin flakes dance around her. It covers the bug, the plants, the path between them. Regina shivers, buit it’s only partly because of the cold - the dread is tugging at her heart.    
  
“Wait!” she cries out, and Emma shoots her a wary look, opening her car door. 

“Why?” she says, a bitter tone in her voice. She quickly rubs over her cheeks, more tears have fallen after she closed the door behind her. A flicker of doubt settles in Regina’s stomach, but she puhes it away. Now or probably never, she tells herself, inhaling a shaking breath.

“In the vault - when you said to fight for your family - did you mean us? And Henry?” Her heart rate picks up again while nervous energy stirs in her stomach. 

“Jesus, Regina,  _ that _ is what you want to know now?” The exasperation is evident in Emma’s voice.

“Very much so.” She quickly steps forward, closes the distance until only the bug is in between them. She intently looks at Emma’s face, afraid that if she averts her eyes before Emma’s answered, she’ll get in the car and drive off. 

“Yes,” Emma answers after a short pause, with some resignation lining her voice. “I thought we were building something up. It was never my intention but it… I thought we felt the same. But I think I might’ve assumed too much.” She sounds bitter but Regina is not sure if the bitterness is aimed at her or at herself. 

“You didn’t.”

Emma eyes her cautiously. A muscle tenses in her jaw as her face pulls in a frown. Regina swallows. “I never… I just don’t know how to do this the right way.” She runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “I know nothing about family - about love, except that it’s weakness and that’s something my mother imprinted in my very soul.” She sighs, shaking, presses her hands against her chest. She searches for more words to say but can’t find the right ones.

There’s a long pause. Regina holds Emma’s gaze until she’s too desperate, and averts her eyes. 

“You really are an idiot.”

Regina’s eyes flick back to Emma, dread written in her features and a question in her eyes. Emma folds her hands in front of her chest. “Your mother was wrong,” she says.

Regina blinks. “How?”

“Love isn’t weakness,” Emma says, stronger now. “It’s strength.” Regina blinks again. “I’ve seen it in your love for Henry, in my love for him, my -. It makes you feel  _ better,  _ not  _ worse.  _ Most of the time, anyway, if you’re not being an asshole about it. _ ” _ She narrows her eyes. “But I get it. I really do. Because not so long ago, I’d have agreed with you. Until…” She smiles weakly. “Well, basically, until I got to know you.” She inhales deeply - it’s like she’s now afraid to speak as well. Her next words are slow, more considered. “I told you that we were stronger together.”

A flicker of hope ignites in her stomach - Emma’s always been good at doing that, giving her a flicker of hope. It’s in her Charming genes, Regina thinks. But hope never did her any good. Hope always ended up shattering her to pieces - but it is always so very persistent. And right now, when they’re standing in the snow with this hideous wreck on wheels in between them, she can’t find it in herself to suppress it. No matter what it might cost her. “Even if that’s so… I don’t know how... I once told Henry that I don’t know how to love very well.” She shakes her head lightly, scoffs at herself, rolls with her eyes. “I do know how to  _ hurt  _ very well. And I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can change that, any time soon.”

There’s a short pause. “They say you’re bound to hurt the ones you love the most,” Emma says while narrowing her eyes, tilting her head a little.

_ You’re bound to hurt me. As I’m bound to hurt you. _ A new realization dawns in Regina’s mind as Emma’s words from a few days earlier materialize in her chest. Her heart seems to swell up, presses painfully against her ribcage. She widens her eyes in wonder.

“ _ Do _ they, now?” she says, cautiously.

Emma sighs, runs a hand through her unruly curls, glistening with snowflakes, grants her an exasperated look. “They  _ do _ ,” she replies, the beginning of a smile forming around her mouth. The air shifts between them and is suddenly heavy with expectations. Breath catches in Regina’s throat. Her palms are starting to sweat, her breath is shaky as they stare at each other. And then, her feet carry her to the other side of the car, her eyes never leaving Emma’s face. But instead of tensing up the way she had in the bedroom, Emma narrows her eyes, a little curious, as she leans against the open door of her car, arm resting on the roof of the car. 

Regina stops an arm’s length away. “Give me a chance to…” Regina swallows hard, scrapes her throat.  _ Love is weakness,  _ her mother persists, but now, Regina shakes her head, suppresses the voice in her head and she folds her hands, her fingers twisting nervously. “To love you the way you deserve. But… it might take a while before I get it  _ right _ .” She smiles a tensed, watery smile. “And I can’t promise I won’t fuck it up because that’s what I do best.”

There’s a warmth in Emma’s eyes now that burns right into Regina’s chest as she steps closer and Emma takes Regina’s cold, fidgeting fingers in her own hands. Regina looks at their hands, laced together, and holds her breath. “God, Regina, you idiot," Emma says, tone exasperated once more. "I love you. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll always  _ like  _ you.”

Regina’s eyes snap up to meet green’s. Snowflakes are shimmering in Emma’s hair. “You do?” It’s like a weight is lifting from Regina’s shoulders. Emma nods, eyes softer now. 

“Oh. Okay. That’s good,” Regina sighs, tension leaving her body. Better than good, she believes, as a choking breath leaves her throat. 

Emma scoffs, rolls her eyes in the exact way Regina can, and Regina laughs shakily, while a warmth surges inside her, settles in her chest as Emma steps closer. And then, Emma’s lips are on Regina’s and her little gasp of surprise is absorbed. It feels like coming home, like she finally has a place she belongs and she presses her body into Emma’s to feel her, slides her arms around Emma’s waist. And Emma’s hand slides up to Regina’s cheeks, brushing her thumbs over her jawline and fingers tangling in her hair as her mouth discovers Regina’s. Regina breathes raggedly, her body trembles with a whole new tension and a sob escapes her throat. This is what she has always wanted. Emma, Emma,  _ Emma _ , hums the blood in her veins as the blonde gently grazes Regina’s lower lip with her teeth. But there’s something she needs an answer to, and she pulls back a little, despite Emma’s protesting sounds.    
  
“You’re staying, right?”

“Hm. If you stop being such an asshole.” Emma’s green eyes shimmer with fondness, with something she has seen before but was too afraid to acknowledge - love. God, she has been an idiot. And yes, an asshole, too.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” Remorse sounds through in her voice. 

“I know.” She nuzzles her nose, brushes her lips over Reginas. “And see? I was right.” Emma smiles against Regina’s lips. 

“How so?”

“First we fight. Then we make up.”

Regina laughs, lifts her hands to her own face, and feels how wet her cheeks are, and it’s not because of the snow. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe I’m exactly who you deserve,” Emma murmurs as she pulls Regina back into her arms, kissing her tears away. “A pain in the ass. And you're a pain in mine.” And Regina snorts, eases into the embrace. 

“If it helps, you can still punch me in the face,” Regina softly says, nuzzling Emma’s cheek with her nose, but Emma laughs.

“I’ll save that for next time. Now, though the snowflakes look really cute on you, let’s get out of the cold.” She closes her car door, one arm still firmly wrapped around Regina, who scoffs.

“I don’t do cute.”

“Oh, but Madam Mayor -- you do.” Emma eyes her fondly, tucks a string of hair behind Regina’s ear. “And I believe I have a very long time to prove it.”


	17. EPILOGUE

The RV, which has been under full-time surveillance until Regina was ready to return to the vault, is now parked next to Regina's family’s mausoleum. It has taken Greg and Tamara several days to clear out the vault because they didn’t want to draw suspicion, but unloading goes quicker. Especially when she has people offering their assistance.

Regina smiles. Only a week ago, she would have never thought that people would volunteer to help her. Much has changed, not only since last week but over the past few months. Her heart swells at the thought and that, too, is a strange new feeling.  
  
"Careful," she hears Emma say, and Ruby \- whose shoulder has fully healed with the help of a potion - groans. "Yeah, yeah. Talking about heavy hearts, geez." And then they come around the corner, heaving a heavy chest with the two of them. The chest contains smaller boxes, which carry most of the weight, with hearts that belong in the wall across the staircase. 

"Thank you," Regina says to them both, and they flash her a smile before disappearing up the stairs again. Ruby and Emma are under strict orders to only carry the crates but not to touch anything inside because she doesn't know if it's safe enough. If there are vials that are broken because of the transport, she's the best they have to counter it. And she handled the Agrabahn vipers herself. Upon asking why she wanted to keep them anyway, she simply glared at Emma, who had then shrugged. “Your vault, your choice, but don’t come whining if they ever take a bite out of you.” 

Regina had smirked. “I’ll leave that to you, dear.” And of course, Ruby had chosen that particular moment to come down with a couple of boxes with hearts, and she had cackled relentlessly. Emma’s face had flushed and Regina’s cheeks had turned slightly pink as well. Because these past few days have been mostly used to get to know each other even better. 

Once, in the darkness of the night, not so very long ago, Emma had said that it had to mean something, them coming together. So there _had_ been a lot of kissing in between their conversations - one of them witnessed by a horrified Henry who’d said, “Ew, gross!” and had nodded some kind of approval after - a lot of fleeting touches, hugs, cuddles, but never more than that. Despite their history, the subject still makes them a little awkward. Not surprisingly, Ruby sniffs it out right away. Teases them unabatingly in whatever way she can.

All in all, it takes them a couple of hours to get everything down again, mostly because Regina wants to store everything in its rightful place immediately. “You could’ve just magicked it all down here,” Emma groans, dropping to the floor next to Ruby. They all look a little messed up, sweaty, and tired, but at least everything is inside. 

“I could have,” Regina says, “but the vault isn’t very big and if all these boxes and crates would’ve been piled together, I wouldn’t have an overview. I needed to check if everything was still here and if the vials were all intact.” 

"Were they?” Ruby asks, and Regina nods. “To the best of my knowledge, most is. Some vials have broken, but the insides weren’t harmful.”

“Good.” She takes a sip from her bottle of water. “Okay, I’ll bring the RV to Michael Tillman’s garage,” she then adds, getting up, “And then I've got to work at the diner. I’ll see you later?” Regina nods. She doesn’t quite know yet what this tentative friendship with Ruby will bring her, but she likes having her around.

Well, that is until Ruby halts, glares over her healed shoulder, and gives the both of them a pointed look. “Now, don’t do anything I wouldn't do, kids,” she says, wriggling her eyebrows, and Regina rolls her eyes, extracting a snort from Emma and a hearty laugh from Ruby before she disappears with a wave. 

“Hm,” Emma says, stepping closer towards Regina, hands firmly tucked in the pockets of her jeans, “What do you suppose she means by that?” Regina’s head snaps up and she sees the amused, knowing smirk on her face. Her eyes travel over Emma’s curls, the tank top she’s wearing - the exercise and the surprising warmth in the vault had made her lose her coat a while ago, and Regina can’t say she’s sorry about that. She appreciatively lets her eyes wander over the blonde’s strong arms and abdomen.

And suddenly it seems even warmer in the vault, the air thick with anticipation. She inhales deeply, as she takes a step towards Emma.

“Don’t play innocent,” Regina scolds her, stepping closer, running a finger over Emma’s arms. “You know exactly what she means.”

"She said we _shouldn't,"_ Emma smiles coyly, her green eyes sparkling. 

"Since when do you listen to anything anyone's saying?" Regina sighs exasperated.

And then she pulls close, presses her lips on Emma’s, and is intensely satisfied when Emma opens her mouth with a gasp, slips her tongue inside. She buries her fingers in Emma’s hair, presses her body against hers and it causes Emma to stumble backward until her back hits the stone table. The sound escaping Emma’s throat does strange things to Regina’s stomach. Heat flares up, her blood changes into liquid fire, which her heart pumps through her entire body, as her hands wander over Emma’s, from shoulders to the small of her back before slipping underneath her shirt and fingers dig in the soft skin of her hips, needing to feel the bare skin. 

“Shit,” Emma breathes, breaking the kiss to come up for air, and Regina smiles, nipping the soft skin of Emma’s neck. Emma turns her head again, catches her lips, bites Regina’s lower lip. Arousal shoots through Regina’s body before firmly settling in her lower belly and she can’t help but snake her fingers in the tight jeans.

Emma gasps for air, grabs Regina’s hands to stop her, and Regina tilts her head to meet Emma’s gaze, suddenly a little insecure. “God, Regina, I really don’t want you to stop, but are you sure?”

Regina smiles, her worries falling away upon seeing the burning gaze. “About this - us? Yes. I am. You?”

“If you’ll have me, I’m all yours.”

Oh, right now, there are plenty of ways Regina wants to have Emma and she sees how Emma’s gaze changes when Regina’s own eyes darken. Their lips meet again, hastier now, and Regina’s hands move to the front of Emma’s pants to unbutton the tight jeans. She feels a little light-headed and breathless and God, she wants to feel her. Emma quickly wriggles out of her pants in an attempt to help and pulls her shirt off simultaneously, before her impatient fingers start on the buttons of Regina’s blouse and she groans in frustration. “Rip it,” Regina pants, ridding herself of her own pants, “I’ll fix it later.” And Emma does, yanks the blouse open and buttons fly everywhere as she pushes the blouse off Regina’s shoulders. Her fingers trail over Regina’s back and she moans when Emma’s fingers find the clip of her bra, meanwhile pressing kisses on her chest. Regina arches her back towards Emma to grant her better access but Emma leans back a little, breathes heavily as she takes in Regina’s nakedness. 

There’s the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest and she automatically does, but Emma catches her hands. “Don’t,” she whispers, “You’re beautiful.” She lets go of Regina’s hands and almost reverently, she cups Regina’s breasts, stroking her nipples. The touch hardens them immediately and Regina inhales sharply in response, hears how Emma chuckles. And then, Emma’s head lowers to catch one of them with her mouth, draws circles around them, bites softly, and involuntary sounds leave Regina’s throat as an entirely new sensation shoots from her breast immediately down to the throbbing center of nerves between her legs. 

“Oh,” she breathes, almost in wonder, as her body automatically arches towards Emma, her hands in the blonde’s hair. She can definitely get used to this. But she also needs to touch, presses into Emma until Emma pushes herself up to sit on the table, while she curls her legs around Regina’s waist. The perfect height of the table presses their naked bodies together in all the right places and they both shiver as their mouths find each other for a heated kiss. Regina’s blood sings, heat consumes her and her body aches for a release. Her heart hammers in her head, slams in her chest so hard that breathing is difficult, but it doesn’t matter because Emma is all she needs. Her name is on Regina’s lips as she presses kisses on her neck, bites in her pulse point that makes Emma shoot upright, and extracts a moan from her. “God, Regina,” she whimpers, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing, dear,” Regina purrs, before licking one of Emma’s nipples, scraping it lightly with her teeth which makes Emma arch her back with a sharp intake of air. But Regina doesn’t linger, lowers her body, meanwhile pressing kisses over Emma’s belly. Her hands wander over the insides of her spread thighs until she sits on her knees in front of the table. Emma hisses, moans, whines as Regina continues to tease her by licking, biting, kissing her belly, her hips, the insides of Emma’s thighs. Emma rocks her hips, can’t stop moving restlessly, can’t stop trembling when she can’t find any kind of friction, and when she can’t handle anymore, she desperately cries out, “Regina,  _ please!” _

And Regina chuckles darkly, feels how Emma’s desperate words make the throbbing between her own legs even harder to ignore. Her fingers wander towards the apex of Emma’s thighs, opening the glistening folds gently, and God, Emma is so,  _ so _ wet. Regina is fascinated, brings in one, two fingers inside of Emma, and Emma’s hissed “God, yes,” vibrates through her body as she thrusts her hips forward, needing more. Regina takes two seconds to enjoy the feel of her own fingers sliding in and out of the blonde, and then, before Emma gets a chance to adjust, Regina presses her mouth firmly against Emma’s clit. Emma whimpers as Regina licks the bundle of nerves, runs her tongue through her slit, and feels how Emma’s fingers weave tightly into her hair, how the blonde tilts her hips and presses Regina closer by folding her legs around Regina’s shoulders. 

Regina twists her fingers, resulting in another cry, as she runs her tongue up and down, sucks softly, and the tension in Emma builds up until one of Emma’s hands slams into the table’s edge. She curls her fingers around it so tightly that her knuckles go white, and she starts to tremble, shake uncontrollably. Regina pins Emma’s left leg down, anchors it to the table, and digs her nails in the soft flesh of Emma’s upper leg. She holds her steady as Emma’s body tenses up completely, right before she cries out, “Regina!” and explodes. 

Regina doesn’t stop her movements but her touch becomes softer, lighter, allows Emma to ride out her orgasm as violent shivers run through the blonde’s body. She continues thrusting her fingers, licking Emma’s folds as long as she can until Emma jerks away from her and falls back on the table, legs limply hanging down over the table’s edge. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she pants and Regina grins as she pushes herself up, from the floor. She licks her lips contently, like a cat who just had milk, and sits next to her on the table. And she can’t help but brush her fingers over Emma’s stomach in appreciation. 

“Give me a minute,” Emma murmurs, but right after she pushes herself on her elbows, looks at Regina with shimmering eyes. Regina smiles, thoroughly satisfied with the just-fucked look on Emma’s face. “You vixen,” Emma says, inhaling deeply and exhaling trembling. Regina bites her lower lip and smiles as Emma sits upright again. She raises a hand, traces Regina’s shoulders lightly, which causes goosebumps to erupt all over Regina’s body. She shivers. And then, Emma wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close for a rough, demanding kiss that leaves Regina dizzy when she retreats.

“Turn,” Emma murmurs, and Regina looks up in surprise but she complies with Emma’s wish. She hears Emma shuffle until Emma’s chest presses against her side, one leg behind her, one leg draped over Regina’s, and she snakes her arms around Regina’s waist to pull her close against her own body. Regina turns her head, feels extremely aroused and safe by the sort-of-hug they’re now in at the same time, but when she sees the hunger in the dark green eyes, she gasps in anticipation. Emma smirks. Lets her chin rest on Regina’s shoulder.

“Now,” Emma whispers in her ear and it sounds like a contently purring cat, sending a shiver over Regina’s spine, “I know that you have a couple of sensitive spots. Here,” she hums, nipping the sensitive skin behind her ear, “and here,” biting in her pulse point, “and here.” Regina hisses as Emma nips at the base of her neck and tilts her head to grant Emma better access. Emma runs her tongue over Regina’s neck, causing a choked sound to erupt from Regina’s throat. She grazes her teeth over the sensitive spot, drawing sighs from the brunette. Her hands wander over Regina’s belly, up to her breasts. She trembles as Emma’s thumb rubs over her sensitive nipples, exhales soft gasps. Emma’s other hand is on her back, nails grazing over her spine and she arches forward as heat shoots up through her spine. The touch of Emma’s fingers, nails, and tongue send tiny shocks through her body - it feels so, so good. But her own teasing of moments ago is now backfiring - Emma knows a thing or two about teasing, as well - as Emma’s hand moves lower. Regina automatically spreads her legs and inhales sharply, while she rocks with her hips, wants to move towards the teasing hand. But Emma never touches the throbbing center that so desperately aches for touch, for release. Instead, she shifts a little, smirks as Regina's hazy gaze meets hers, and presses open-mouthed kisses on her neck, shoulder, down to her nipple while her finger keeps teasing the inside of her thighs, darting closer to her core, before she wanders off again. Regina shifts her body against Emma’s, writhes in the hopes of some kind of friction, a release, whining as Emma’s fingers tease the inside of her legs. “ _ Emma _ ,” Regina hisses in frustration, and Emma shifts a little. “I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me _right now_ -”

“Fine,” the blonde murmurs against Regina's shoulder, "always so bossy." Regina can feel the smile that goes with it. She doesn’t have the time to reply, because Emma runs her fingers through Regina’s wet center immediately. “Oh!” Regina cries, breath shaking, as two fingers slip inside, simultaneously with a nip in her shoulder. The sensations come from all directions - mouth and teeth on her shoulder and neck, Emma’s body against her side, one hand on her back, nails grazing, fingers between her legs, inside her. And everything is so overwhelming that she doesn’t know how to move or what to lean into. Her body trembles, a sheen of sweat covers her body, and she feels like she’s running out of air. The pressure between her legs intensifies as Emma’s fingers pick up the speed and she heaves in the air loudly, sighs shuddering. Strange noises erupt from her throat as she grinds against Emma’s hand. Her chest tightens, her movements become more erratic. She lifts one hand to bury in Emma’s golden hair, pulling her closer. And then, Emma suddenly places her thumb on Regina’s clit without halting her movements. Regina's insides turn into liquid fire, building towards an eruption and she opens her mouth, but the only thing coming out is a strangled noise.

“Come for me,” Emma whispers, before she sinks her teeth in the sensitive spot in her shoulder and Regina cries, presses her own hand against Emma’s between her legs to keep it in place and she _does -_ stars explode behind her eyes. All muscles in her body contract at the same time, and she feels free, high on life as she turns her upper body to try and catch Emma’s lips, an intense warmth nesting in her chest. She shudders against Emma, who holds her close with one arm. She doesn’t realize she chants Emma’s name softly in between until Emma chuckles. Emma’s fingers are still inside her, are still moving at a quiet pace and she’s surprised - doesn’t realize what’s happening until it does, but the buildup is so sudden that her body locks for two very long seconds, arches against Emma’s hand, and then she cries in surprise as another orgasm sets her nerve endings on fire, pulses through her belly. She shakes uncontrollably, contracts violently around Emma’s fingers - which are still not stopping - and she pushes Emma’s hand away when the touch becomes too much, gasping for air. 

Emma lifts her hand, licks Regina’s glistening wetness off her fingers while keeping her dark, intense green eyes on Regina’s face and Regina presses her lips on hers again, tastes herself as she slumps against Emma's body, leaning heavily into the blonde’s arms. She’s sticky, damp with sweat, exhausted in a very, very good way. She's exhausted but feels alive at the same time. “Hm,” Emma hums, “This is the second time we haven’t reached a bed.”

“Two is a coincidence,” Regina murmurs, still blissfully high from both orgasms, face pressed against Emma’s neck as her heart rate slowly returns to normal. “Three is a pattern.” 

Emma grins, presses gentle kisses on Regina’s forehead, temple and cheek.  “God, I love you,” she whispers, “You have no idea.” And Regina smiles, sighs, her heart full.

~*~

So naturally, it takes a little longer to unpack the final boxes in the vault. But after they get dressed - with a little magical help - Emma is charged with putting the boxes with hearts back in the wall and Regina meticulously puts the final ingredients in their rightful spots. Sometimes they catch each other’s gazes and they smile. Regina feels alive, vibrant, every time she looks at the blonde working at the other side of her vault.  _ Her _ vault. 

She turns, lets her eyes slide over the shelves, cabinets, and hears the steady drumming of the hearts. It’ll take a while for the vault to feel completely safe again and she’ll protect it to the best of her abilities, but the memories of Greg and Tamara violating it need to wear off. She turns further. Catches her reflection in the mirror, and involuntarily tenses.

She takes a step closer, and another one, until she’s so close that she can touch it. She tilts her head a little, sees her reflection do the same. When she raises her hand to touch her mirror image’s face, she can’t help but smile when her fingers brush over the cool glass. 

“Admiring yourself?” sounds a soft voice next to her and Regina’s eyes flash to Emma, who watches her with an amused gaze, hands firmly planted on her own hips and her head slightly tilted, which makes her hair fall over her right shoulder. Regina smiles before she turns back to the mirror.

“I suppose I am,” she replies, a little surprised. Because for the first time in forever, she can truly see herself. There’s no Evil Queen looking back at her. No hate, no guilt, no revenge. Just Regina. 

_ If I’m not the Evil Queen anymore, then who am I?  _ she had once asked Dr. Hopper.  _ You’ll simply be Regina,  _ he had answered. For the first time, she thinks she might be on the road to that. Being Regina has never been simple and being the Evil Queen even less, and she suspects her life never will be, but the difference is that she isn’t alone. 

She had thought that Regina was weak. People had used and abused her and there was nothing she had been able to do, or so she had thought. But in the end, Regina has proven to be strong. Courageous. And worthy of a family, of love. 

Her hand twitches, fingers curl, and seconds later, an arm slides around her waist. Emma hugs her from behind, rests her chin on Regina’s shoulder, and looks at their reflection in the mirror. Regina inhales, a slight tremor in her voice. “I’ve often stood in front of this mirror, begging it to simply show my reflection, but I always had the Evil Queen staring back at me.”

“Hm. And now?” Emma asks, nuzzling her shoulder.

Regina sighs, and there’s a hint of wonder in her voice as she speaks. “Now... I believe I see a chance.”

“A chance, or a change?” Emma nuzzles Regina’s hair, and her breath stutters momentarily. 

“Both.” She lifts a hand to touch Emma’s face, sees how her reflection does the same. “A chance to do better, and a change in my reflection.” Her fingers brush over Emma’s cheek. “I’ll never be completely free of doubt because too much has happened, but having Henry, having you…” Suddenly, a thought enters her mind and she chuckles a little wryly. She turns in Emma’s arms until they’re faced towards each other, the mirror all but forgotten.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, dear,” Regina drawls, raising an eyebrow, “I was just thinking that you fulfilled your prophecy. The Savior defeated the Evil Queen.”

Emma quirks an eyebrow of herself, a smile tugging on her mouth. Raises a hand and brushes her fingers over Regina’s jawline. “Did I, now?”

Regina smiles fondly. “You defeated me by believing in me. By… sticking around, I suppose. Your unwavering confidence, even when I gave up on myself over and over again… It brought me here.” She turns her head. Looks at herself in the mirror again and sees how Emma follows her gaze. “Even though you were persistently annoying from time to time.”

Emma snorts, then. “Well, it was never specified that vanquishing you meant I had to kill you,” she replies, nuzzling Regina’s jaw. “I like my solution way better.” Her free hand travels up from Regina’s waist, cup her cheeks. Regina shakes her head with a smile. Emma was always good at finding other ways.

“So do I,” Regina murmurs, right before Emma catches her lips with her own. Regina eases into the kiss, feels her legs go weak again but Emma holds her upright like she always does, anchors her. 

“I love you,” Emma whispers against Regina’s mouth and it’s still so new, it is still so bizarre that anyone can love her the way Emma has. Does.  _ Love again _ , Daniel had once told her and she feels this overwhelming surge of warmth in her chest, ready to explode. Her heart throbs painfully against her ribs as she exhales shakily and she feels how her eyes start to sting. Emma has said it before, but now, she is finally believing that she has made a start to forgive herself. Now, these three words enter her soul in a way they haven’t before. They firmly take root, like a seed that will eventually start to grow but it’s there and it’s already so overwhelming.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back, more tearful and more emotional than she had wanted to, but Emma simply smiles, eyes sparking, and softly kisses her. It’s barely a brush, but it leaves Regina’s lips tingling. 

Then, Emma gently turns Regina to the mirror, her arms still firmly wrapped around her. 

“Say it again,” she says, planting a kiss on Regina’s jaw, cheek, temple, as the brunette stares at herself. She presses a hand against her chest, and feels how it is instantly covered with Emma’s. Their fingers lace automatically. She’s a little flustered, face a little pink, but her eyes are sparkling and she sees  _ Regina _ in Emma’s arms. And her gaze travels over Emma’s reflected features - Emma, who looks back with a gentle smile on her face -, and back to her own, and she exhales trembling as she looks herself in the eye. She is strong. She has overcome so much. And, she realizes as something thaws in her chest, some bonds are loosening up, she is proud of herself.  _ I love you unconditionally, but I might not always like you,  _ she remembers and she smiles watery at her reflection as her grip around Emma’s hand intensifies. And she exhales, feels how a tension leaves her body with it and she smiles at herself, quiet acceptance settling in her heart.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this has been one hell of an angsty ride. Originally, I thought I was writing a 15k worded story. It turned out to be so much more. I've second-guessed myself daily (especially with these two last parts, I've rewritten those so many times I've lost count and I'm still maybe not entirely satisfied? So who knows, maybe I'll come back to fix it later). 
> 
> I want to thank you, dear readers and awesome commenters, because you really kept me going. Your feedback made me challenge myself to do better, you've given me insights I hadn't even thought about, you pushed me to update regularly. Your sometimes lengthy comments have often made my day - you were my fuel:) A special shout-out to Claire, who's read a lot of the very first draft and gave me a couple of really fine ideas, Kierra, for motivating me with her superb art and her constant support. 
> 
> I'm far from done with writing for SwanQueen - lots of story-ideas have lined up in my head but I forced myself to finish this one first. So if you liked this, I invite you to subscribe so you won't miss the next one :)
> 
> Also, find me on twitter: [@queststar](HTTPs://www.twitter.com/queststar) and on Instagram: [@thequeststar](https://www.instagram.com/thequeststar) :)


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